Switch
by Beregond5
Summary: G1. Bluestreak gets in touch with his feminine side... quite literally. Crack. Genderswitch. UST. The whole works really.
1. Prologue

Bluestreak onlined his optics, only to shut them again with a groan when the light practically hit his face. His other sensors picked up a shifting motion to his right, and he soon felt a soothing hand resting on his shoulder.

"Bluestreak?"

Bluestreak knew that voice. He onlined his optics, slowly this time, and he directed his gaze to First Aid. The young medic was indeed at his side, an odd mixture of concern and something else in his visor as he stared down at him. Confusion maybe? Mortification? Bluestreak wasn't sure.

"Hi…" Bluestreak winced to hear his voice so off, so he cleared his vocaliser in an attempt to fix the problem. It didn't seem to do any good, though. "I'm at the medbay, right?"

First Aid nodded.

"What happened?" Bluestreak asked.

"What do you remember?" the young medic asked instead.

Bluestreak frowned as he searched his memory databanks. "There was this mission to deliver some energon to the Femmebots on Cybertron," he finally said slowly, as one image after another came back to him. "Optimus said Hound, Inferno and I should take the energon there."

"Go on," First Aid said, trying to sound encouraging.

"Everything went fine," Bluestreak answered. "At least… I think it did." In the next moment, however, the memories really caught up with him and he gasped. "Shockwave detected us on our way back to the spacebridge! He attacked us with about a dozen of his minions, who started firing at us, pinning us down! Inferno blasted five or six, maybe even seven, of them down; while Hound used his holograms to make it look like Omega Supreme was with us and--"

"Hey! Slow down, Bluestreak!" First Aid exclaimed, and Bluestreak could have sworn that he heard the young medic mutter something like some things never changed at least. "So you don't recall the explosion?"

Bluestreak blinked and stared at First Aid blankly.

"I'll take that as no," the young medic said, heaving a sigh. "Yes, all three of you fought bravely, but Shockwave also had control of the security systems. He set off one of the cannon-turrets that surrounded the space-bridge."

Bluestreak winced. He knew only too well the kind of damage the cannon-turrets were capable of. "Are Hound and Inferno okay?"

"Yes, don't worry," First Aid said reassuringly. "Unfortunately, you took most of the hit from that explosion."

"Oh… I guess that explains why I'm here," Bluestreak noted.

First Aid actually hesitated for a moment. "Sort of. You were in a very bad shape, Bluestreak; you needed immediate care or you probably wouldn't survive. That was why Hound and Inferno carried you to the Femmebot Base instead."

"That's right," Bluestreak said, remembering. "There was a femme there who served as medic."

First Aid nodded. "She fixed you and, once she decided that you were fit enough for the trip through the spacebridge, Hound and Inferno returned you back to the Ark." He paused, regarding Bluestreak closely. "So… uh… how are you feeling?"

"Quite good, actually," Bluestreak admitted. "I think my vocaliser is set at the wrong pitch, though. Can you check it?"

First Aid couldn't denote many expressions, since most of his features where covered with his visor and his battle-mask. Even so, Bluestreak could still tell that First Aid was currently feeling very, _very _uncomfortable.

"First Aid? What's wrong?"

"Nothing! You're fine!" First Aid answered at once. "_Too _fine actually," he added under his breath.

Bluestreak didn't believe that for a second. "It's bad, isn't it?" he asked, almost panicking. "Did something go wrong with the repairs? Am I scarred? Paralysed? Dying? What does Ratchet--?"

Probably deciding to go for the direct approach and get it over with, First Aid held up a mirror in front of Bluestreak. Bluestreak practically froze and stared at the face before him; or rather… _her._ For there was indeed the darker line in the upper optic seam to signify what humans called long eyelashes; the smaller, more refined nose; and the full lip-components that officially defined Bluestreak as… female.

The scream that Bluestreak let out rang throughout the Ark, scaring the birds at the nearby forest away.

TBC...


	2. Explanations

First Aid checked his audios, making sure that there was no permanent damage done in them, and he counted up to ten. Silence remained, so the young medic supposed he could step out from behind the table he had used as makeshift cover. Bluestreak was still on the berth, but he (_she_, First Aid's processor corrected) wasn't lying down anymore. She was sitting, holding the mirror in her hands and just staring at it with azure optics wide in disbelief.

It was funny, actually. First Aid hadn't noticed the colour of Bluestreak's optics before. It actually looked nice on her, accentuating the rest of her features and making her look rather pretty.

First Aid stopped that train of thought with a mental screech and willed himself to handle the situation at hand as professionally as possible. "Bluestreak?"

"I'm a femme," Bluestreak said in a soft tone, hardly acknowledging First Aid.

First Aid sighed. "Yes."

"I sound like one, too," Bluestreak continued on.

"Yes," First Aid replied patiently.

"And it's not one of Sideswipe's pranks?"

It was a last thread of hope that, unfortunately, First Aid had to cut off. "He had nothing to do with it whatsoever."

Bluestreak stared at the mirror a little while longer, pursing her full, silver, definitely femininelips. First Aid winced, for he understood that he was witnessing the signs of an incoming second outburst of denial.

Sure enough…

"No," Bluestreak declared, chuckling. "No, no, no, no, no…" She got off the berth, shaking her head emphatically. "This isn't happening."

"Technically, it's already happened," First Aid pointed out, but Bluestreak didn't really pay attention to the young medic.

"I mean, it's crazy! That's what it is! I was born a mech, my mother called me her little sparkling _mech_, I played with other sparkling mechs, and I thought sparkling femmes were icky and silly with their pink plating and…"

"Bluestreak…" First Aid started, trying to make himself noticed over the new stream of babble.

Bluestreak gasped, a look of absolute horror reflected in her optics. "Oh Primus… You'll have to paint me pink now, won't you?!" she exclaimed. "And I'll actually go in battle like that?! The Seekers will crash on the ground, laughing all the way! Reflector might even want to take pictures of me, and _Soundwave_ --"

"That's enough, soldier!"

Bluestreak stood in attention without thinking. First Aid, on the other hand, almost jumped to hear Ratchet's command. He hadn't even heard Ratchet coming in, since he was too preoccupied with Bluestreak.

Ratchet crossed the threshold, the door sliding closed behind him, and he walked up to Bluestreak. "State your name and rank."

Bluestreak blinked. "What?"

Ratchet's optics narrowed dangerously. "I said: state your name and rank, soldier!"

"Autobot Gunner Bluestreak, Sir!" the silver mech (_femme_, First Aid corrected himself again) answered, trying unsuccessfully to hide her nervousness.

"That's right," Ratchet said, as if praising a young student. "That's who you are, Bluestreak, femme or otherwise. If anyone ever doubts that, just remind them. Got that?"

Bluestreak tilted her head, considering Ratchet's words for a few moments. In the end, she decided that that was a fair enough solution, because she calmed down significantly and even smiled a bit.

"Okay. Thanks, Ratchet."

Ratchet tugged his lip components to a half-smile as well. "You're welcome. So," with that, the medic beckoned Bluestreak to sit down once more, "what do you want to know first?"

Bluestreak sat down. "Well…"

She never finished her sentence. In that moment, the door hissed open, revealing Brawn. First Aid noticed the young gunner shifting on her seat in discomfort, bowing her head in the hopes that she would somehow turn invisible. Ratchet, however, placed a hand in hers in reassurance.

"Can I help you?" Ratchet asked, regarding the newcomer with a raised optic ridge.

"Sorry to bother you, Ratchet," Brawn replied, "But I heard a scream. Is everything okay?"

"Yes, everything's fine, thank you," Ratchet answered. "You can go, Brawn."

Brawn didn't move.

"Brawn, you can go," Ratchet repeated, stressing each word.

Brawn just kept staring at Bluestreak.

"Brawn!"

"Right, right, sorry…" Brawn said absentmindedly, and he exited with a small nod in goodbye.

Ratchet huffed slightly, and he turned his attention back to the gunner. "So… what was your question, Bluestreak?"

The young gunner heaved a sigh. "A 'Why' sounds good right about now," she answered glumly.

"You were taken to an all-femme base, Bluestreak," Ratchet said. "What kind of spare parts did you expect them to have?"

"But did they _have_ to fix the plating too?" she asked. "You could have done that, right?"

"Not when you needed immediate repairs. The femme medic couldn't risk having your inner circuitries exposed, especially if you travelled via the spacebridge."

"Well, I'm back. You can fix it now, can't you?"

"Yes, I can, but…" Ratchet stopped midway, because it was then that the door opened again. Everyone turned around, surprised to see that it was actually Fireflight... and he had remained on the threshold, seemingly staring into space. First Aid, however, noticed that Fireflight had, in fact, locked his gaze on Bluestreak, who had bowed her head once more.

Ratchet stood up, looking at the Aerialbot in clear indignation. "Fireflight, is there something wrong?"

Fireflight flinched a bit, like he had just been shaken off from another of his daydreams. "Oh, hey, Ratchet. No, there's nothing wrong. I just wanted to… um… get something."

Ratchet's expression clouded to a frown. "Oh? And what is that something?"

Fireflight wrung his hands uneasily under that scrutinising look.

"Well?" Ratchet insisted.

Fireflight ran off so fast he practically teleported out of the medbay. Ratchet snorted, and he settled back on his chair to continue his talk with Bluestreak.

"As I was saying before that little… interruption… Creating derma-plating isn't a walk in the park; it takes time. Time that we saved by keeping several standard face-plates in the storage room and only using them in case of an emergency."

Bluestreak sat up, already suspecting what Ratchet was about to say. "Don't tell me…"

Ratchet rubbed the back of his neck as if it strained him, although First Aid knew that it was actually a sign of embarrassment.

"Yeah. I'm afraid we've run out. I had to use the last one on Mirage while you were away."

To say Bluestreak's face fell in disappointment would have been an understatement. Her doors reflected her complete and utter defeat.

"I see. I guess Mirage needed it." She looked at Ratchet, wringing her hands nervously. "So how long will it take you to make a new one?"

Ratchet opened his mouth to speak, but the sound of the door opening cut him off. And, of course, it had to be a certain red hellion standing on the threshold, smiling cheekily.

"Heya, Ratchet," Sideswipe said innocently enough. "I wanted to hand over Prowl that report he asked of me. Is he here?"

"As you can see, no," Ratchet replied patiently.

"Oh." The red Lamborghini thought about matters for a few moments. "Any idea where he could be?"

"Have you tried his office?" Ratchet said, grounding out the words.

Sideswipe's optics widened in realisation. "Actually, I didn't. Thanks, Ratchet!"

The medic made a small grunting sound. "You're welcome. Now out."

Sideswipe grinned in goodbye, then turned on his heel and pranced out of the medbay. First Aid watched him go, all the while trying to figure out why something just didn't add up in the scene he had just witnessed. Finally, it clicked on him.

"Did Sideswipe just say that he wanted to hand Prowl a report?!"

"Yes, he did," Ratchet replied.

"But he never--"

"I KNOW!" Ratchet snapped, making both gunner and apprentice almost jump. Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nose and, once he had composed himself, he addressed Bluestreak.

"As I said before, creating a face-plate isn't easy. I will have to ask for Perceptor's help, since he knows the right consistency of derma-platings. The bad news is that Perceptor isn't here."

Bluestreak frowned. "Okay, I can wait for a while. When will he be back?"

"In a month," First Aid provided helpfully.

"WHAT?!"

Ratchet and First Aid winced. Though Ratchet was loud too every time he was ticked off, Bluestreak's vocaliser could now reach to supersonic levels in a sparkbeat. It was part of being a femme on the brink of panic.

"He's on Titan with Jazz; he wanted to examine the energy crystals there," Ratchet answered, trying to calm down the gunner. "I'm sorry, Bluestreak, but we didn't exactly expect _this _to happen."

Bluestreak hid her face in her hands. "It's official. Primus hates me," she declared.

"He doesn't hate you, Bluestreak," Ratchet said, patting the femme's broad shoulders. "Let's just say that he's in a… well, a strange mood."

"So he decided to have a few laughs at my expense," the femme replied. She sat up once more, and she sighed dejectedly. "Fine. One month it is."

"Don't be like that," Ratchet said, smiling a bit. "Trust me, the month will go by before you will even notice."

"I doubt it," Bluestreak muttered under her breath.

Just then, the door opened again, and everyone reacted at once. Bluestreak tried to make herself as small as possible behind First Aid, while Ratchet took out of subspace his favourite wrench; it made a particularly pleasant sound whenever it impacted with an aggravating mech's helm.

Prowl raised an optic ridge. "Is something amiss?" he asked.

"Not yet," Ratchet answered, putting his wrench back into subspace. "I take it you're here to see Bluestreak?"

"Of course," Prowl replied, and he looked at First Aid. The apprentice was currently giving the impression that a pair of silver doors had sprouted on his back. "Bluestreak?"

It took some time, but Bluestreak finally stepped out of her hiding place. She took a few cautious steps forward, her face positively crimson.

"Hey, Prowl," she mumbled.

Prowl, however, smiled. Granted, it was a barely visible smile, but it nevertheless brightened the tactician's usually austere features significantly.

"I'm glad to see you up and about again, Bluestreak," he said. "Has Ratchet filled you in?"

Bluestreak just blinked at Prowl, agape. Prowl cocked his head, and he directed his gaze to Ratchet.

"Yes, I did," the medic answered, seeing through Prowl's questioning look. "She's merely shocked that your computer didn't crash when you saw him… her."

"Since she doesn't know that you've already had four crashes in the last Earth day after hearing the news," First Aid added.

Ratchet sighed. "Exactly. Thank you, First Aid."

"You're welcome, Sir."

"I see," Prowl said, casting a brief glance at Bluestreak, and then he addressed Ratchet one more. "What's your assessment?"

"She's confused, which is understandable under the circumstances. Other than that, she's perfectly fine," Ratchet answered.

"Very well," Prowl said. "Then, with your permission, I would like to escort Bluestreak back to our quarters."

"It's okay by me. You'll have to ask her, though."

Prowl nodded, and he approached Bluestreak to place a hand on the femme's shoulders. "Shall we go?"

She regarded Prowl for a moment, pondered on the request, and finally came to her decision.

"Okay."

With that, both Datsuns greeted the medics goodbye and exited the medbay. First Aid's air vents cycled air violently as he let out a breath that he hadn't realised he had been holding.

"Tired?" Ratchet asked.

First Aid nodded.

"Well, go and have some rest. I'll stay here for a little while longer."

"Alright," First Aid said, and he headed towards the exit. But the door swished open just in time to reveal Wheeljack - the engineer was obviously on his way in.

"Hey, Ratchet, can you check these readings on my--?"

Before First Aid even registered that something flew by his audios on top speed, Wheeljack ended up on the floor and the wrench landed beside him.

"Ow…" The Lancia sat up, rubbing his forehead. "I take it it's a bad time?"

"You have no idea," Ratchet replied darkly. Still, he helped his friend up and briefly checked the hit as a form of apology before prodding him inside the medbay.

First Aid continued on his way with a shake of his head. Apparently, this was going to be one very long month, but there was nothing anyone could do. They just had to hope that Perceptor would return at the appointed time. Otherwise, several mechs and a mech-turned-femme would be in for a system breakdown for sure.

TBC...


	3. Okay Now What?

Prowl walked on with the air and poise of someone focused, his shoulders drawn back and his doors held high behind his back. He was as calm as always, something that frustrated Bluestreak, because he (sigh… _she_) had spent their entire walk looking every which way, hoping that she didn't come across any of the other Autobots. She had had enough staring not only for today, but for the rest of her existence, thank you very much.

"I know that look," Prowl said at that moment, finally facing her. "It's the same one you had when I took you to the shooting range for the first time."

"Makes sense; I'm as terrified now as I was back then," she replied truthfully.

"Why?"

Bluestreak stopped in her tracks, staring at Prowl incredulously. "You're kidding me, right? Look at me! I've got the whole package to join Elita-1's squad now! I'm even surprised that they didn't decide to keep me once the medic was done with me! Probably because either Hound or Inferno warned them that I'll talk their audios off or something--"

"If it embarrasses you so much, you could have stayed in the medbay," Prowl replied, stopping in his tracks as well.

Bluestreak revolted. "You know I couldn't do that! I'm not sick or impaired; I'd get crazy if I stayed cooped up in there!"

"My point exactly," Prowl said and he walked up to the gunner, prodding her to look up at him. "I understand it's an unusual and difficult situation for you, Bluestreak. But this isn't the worst thing that has happened in your life, is it?"

Bluestreak pondered on Prowl's words. No, this was definitely not the worst thing that had happened to her. She (wait… _He. _She was a he back then)had lost a home and a family, he had almost died himself, and he had ended up vulnerable and frightened out of his wits. Compared to that, the current situation was just plain awkward.

"Right," she admitted softly. "Sorry, Prowl."

Prowl nodded, declaring in this way that the matter was settled. "Shall we continue on?"

"Okay," Bluestreak replied, and she followed her mentor close to his heels. She felt less agitated than before, deciding that she was probably overreacting. After all, Ratchet had already said that she was still a soldier and an Autobot. The others could understand that too, right?

_Wrong._ When Bluestreak and Prowl passed by Sunstreaker, Sunstreaker stared at the gunner with a very strange look in his optics, and then hurried around the corner.

"Great. Just blasted great," she muttered under her breath.

"Bluestreak?" Prowl inquired, overhearing his protégé.

"Nothing," she said darkly, "Except I just freaked out Sunstreaker."

Prowl frowned and looked in the direction Sunstreaker had left. "Are you sure of what you saw?" he asked, facing Bluestreak once more.

"He practically ran off," she said with a mild huff. "Sunstreaker _never _runs off from anything."

"Agreed," Prowl mused, rubbing his chin in thought. The tactician's optics dimmed slightly, indicating that he was carefully contemplating matters. "In this case, it would be best if you didn't interact with Sunstreaker until Ratchet has changed your faceplate again. I can arrange the shifts so you don't have to meet him."

Bluestreak's first impulse was to accept Prowl's offer, but she bit back her words and she shook her head instead. "It's still me, no matter what I look. Sunstreaker will realise that, sooner or later," he said.

Prowl regarded his protégé closely. "Are you certain?"

"Yeah," Bluestreak replied. "I can deal with him. Or at least try."

"Very well."

With that, the two Datsuns continued on walking in silence, yet Bluestreak noticed that the tactician had become quite thoughtful; there was no mistaking the way Prowl kept his jaw clenched. It was a curious sight, and Bluestreak couldn't help but feel intrigued by it. Nevertheless, she decided against asking Prowl what was in his mind. She didn't want to be indiscreet. Just as silence started growing heavily on Bluestreak, they finally reached the dorm she and Prowl shared. Prowl pressed the password in a few swift strokes, and the door opened with a gentle hissing sound.

"After you," Prowl said, motioning his hand to the interior of the room.

Bluestreak winced inwardly, hoping that Prowl wasn't acting polite just because he was now dealing with a femme. Even so, he (_she, _for Primus's sake!) indulged her mentor and she stepped inside their quarters, while Prowl followed close behind.

The moment that the door hissed closed, Bluestreak felt safe once more, and all her tension ebbed away to be replaced with sheer exhaustion. Sighing, she lay down on her berth face down, burying her optics in her arms. Her audios picked up the sound of Prowl's footsteps as the tactician moved about the room, but she was rather startled when she felt light fingers on her shoulder. She looked up, and saw Prowl sitting at her side, holding an energon cube in his hand.

"I figured you'd need the nourishment," the black and white mech said. "You were offline for almost three Earth days."

"I don't think I can drink anything," Bluestreak mumbled, wanting nothing more than fall into recharge.

"Nevertheless, it will help you," Prowl pointed out, offering the luminescent liquid. "Trust me."

Bluestreak stared at the energon for a few moments, still indecisive. "We can share it," she suggested.

"I've already had my ration for today," Prowl answered, a rare, teasing smile flickering on his lip components. "Any further objections?"

That, of course, meant that Prowl didn't intend to back down. Accepting her defeat, Bluestreak took the cube and started drinking slowly. The moment that the first sip of energon travelled down her throat, she realised just how hungry she really was, and the liquid vanished down into her converters in a matter of seconds. A grin of contentment formed on her features once she was done.

"That was good," she admitted. Indeed, she felt more relaxed and her mood was improved significantly. She made a motion to stand up in order to return the cube on the table nearby, but Prowl was faster as he clasped the cube in hishands.

"I'll do it," he said.

"But--" Bluestreak started.

"_I'll_ do it," Prowl insisted, his tone soft, yet commanding. "Rest."

"Okay." After all, Bluestreak knew better than to argue with her mentor. She lay down once more and, as weariness swiftly caught up with her, she simply shut her optics and allowed herself to slip into recharge.

* * *

Prowl watched Bluestreak finally setting his circuitry in recharge mode, then placed the empty energon cube back in its place. He kept his movements as light as possible, not wishing to disturb his protégé. It had been an odd day, to say the least, and Prowl was certain that Bluestreak needed the rest.

Speaking of which, Prowl decided it was high time to see to the problem at hand. He never had to deal with that kind of situation before, nor had he heard of anyone else who actually had. So, trying to figure out things on his own didn't seem very helpful either in his or Bluestreak's case. No. This time, asking for advice was the best option, and he knew from just where to get it.

He cast another glance in Bluestreak's direction, making sure that the young one was fast asleep. Once he deemed that he wouldn't be missed, Prowl exited the dorm and walked straight to Smokescreen's office. The tactician was aware that the former gambler was usually there about this hour, and today would probably not be an exception.

Prowl finally reached the door and pressed the call button, expecting the blue Datsun's voice coming from inside in response.

"Yeah?"

Considering that as an invitation to enter, Prowl pressed the button that opened the door and stepped inside. He frowned slightly when he saw Smokescreen sit with his feet on the desk, reading a datapad in a relaxed manner. But an evident smirk tugging on the blue Datsun's lip components indicated Prowl that Smokescreen had indeed acknowledged his presence.

"I'm disappointed at you, Prowl," Smokescreen declared. "I was expecting you here five minutes ago."

Prowl resisted the urge to glare at Smokescreen. The blue Datsun always had the unsettling habit of regarding Prowl as far too predictable.

"My apologies," he answered dryly. "I had to take Bluestreak to our dorm."

"Ah, that explains it," Smokescreen said, putting his feet back on the floor and tossing the datapad aside. "Did our young gunner approve of the certain… changes?"

"Naturally, no," Prowl answered.

Smokescreen shook his head with a sigh. "Pity. Fireflight keeps saying to everyone how cute she is."

Prowl raised an optic ridge. Whoever said that news travels fast was very, _very _accurate. "Sounds like I'll have to remind Fireflight that this arrangement is only temporary."

"Give him a break; he hasn't seen all that many femmes in his life," Smokescreen pointed out in a teasing tone. He soon sobered, however, and he leaned forward, knitting his hands together. "Now, on a more serious note… How's Bluestreak holding up?"

Prowl sat down on a chair nearby, heaving a sigh. "Not all that well."

"It's understandable, under the circumstances," Smokescreen said. "And you?"

"I try to cope," Prowl said candidly.

"So I've noticed. We've been talking for some time and you never referred to Bluestreak as 'he' or 'she' once," the blue Datsun said. "Afraid your computer will crash?"

"I'm just being cautious," Prowl answered, "The last thing that the Ark-crew needs is the second-in-command crashing every three Earth seconds."

"I suppose so," Smokescreen mused aloud. "But you're still uncomfortable."

Prowl clenched his jaw, refusing to admit that, at least verbally. Smokescreen raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

"No one's judging you, Prowl. But we both know you came here to ask for my help. So ask away."

The tactician's doors lowered a bit as part of his tension flowed out of his systems, realising that the former gambler had a point.

"You're right. I have some concerns."

"I'm listening," the blue Datsun said, prodding Prowl.

Prowl took a deep breath. "I have no problems regarding Bluestreak as a soldier under my command; in fact, it's easier for me… and my processor," he said. "Even so, I'm not certain if this kind of approach can be applied at all times."

Smokescreen sat up on his chair. "Why exactly would you want to regard her as just a soldier?"

"So Bluestreak can feel comfortable as well," Prowl answered. "I don't want the young one to think everything's changed because of the present situation."

"In other words, you're worried that any sociable action from your part will make Bluestreak think you're treating him like a femme."

"That about sums it up," Prowl said with a nod.

"Then don't do that," Smokescreen said. "But I should still remind you that Bluestreak is still the young Cybertronian that you brought back from the Neutral Zone, that you promised yourself to look after. This hasn't changed, has it?"

Prowl pursed his lips momentarily, thinking over Smokescreen's words carefully, and he eventually nodded.

"Point taken." He stood up, heading for the exit. "Thank you for the time, Smokescreen."

"No problem," the former gambler said, smiling.

The tactician was almost at the door when he suddenly stopped in his tracks, for it was then that another thought crossed his mind.

"Smokescreen, there's another matter that troubles me."

"Oh?" Smokescreen raised an optic ridge. "And what would that be?"

"Why do you think an Autobot known for his brashness would suddenly run away at the sight of a femme?"

Smokescreen tilted his head. "I take it something like that happened to Bluestreak. Who was it?"

Prowl eyed the blue Datsun hard.

"Fine, don't tell me," Smokescreen said in mock resignation. "But I can tell you this: the mech either ran off because he was disturbed… or because he liked the sight very much."

Prowl felt his doors standing rigidly behind his back again. "I see."

With that, he walked out, contemplating Sunstreaker's behaviour carefully. He knew that the yellow Lamborghini and Bluestreak were on friendly terms, at least as friendly as a mech known for his egoism and vanity could be with someone utterly selfless and considerate. Therefore, being confused at the young one's change wasn't that far-fetched of a possibility. But, Prowl was also aware that Sunstreaker's ego could easily be matched with the number of lovers he had taken. It _was _possible that he could take advantage of Bluestreak's new appearance and add, as humans eloquently put it, another notch on his proverbial belt.

Well… in either case, Prowl would be prepared.

_TBC..._


	4. A Different Perspective

_A/n: Watch out for the Benny Hill reference... and others. _

* * *

Bluestreak had heard Chip mentioning how humans always seemed able to surpass their abilities on the face of danger; something about a chemical working as a super fuel on their limbs. However, it was only now that Bluestreak actually believed the young human, for she couldn't remember the last time she had run that fast in her life. So fast, in fact, that her feet looked like a blur as she desperately tried to find any kind of hiding place from the mob that was after her.

She didn't even know how it had happened. She was in the control room, minding her own business, when Ironhide walked in and sat on the chair next to hers. Everything carried on as usual, but, somehow, Ironhide had dragged his chair closer to Bluestreak. Then closer. And then some more. Finally, the veteran had the audacity to reach for Bluestreak's thigh and caress it, his optics reflecting what he _really _wanted.

So, of course, Bluestreak did the first thing that came to mind. She punched Ironhide straight on the jaw and she burst out of the control room. Next thing she knew, every Autobot was chasing her with hands extended forward, lip components puckered up for a kiss and… some kind of music ringing in her audios?

Focusing, she turned around and pressed herself against the wall, relieved that no one in the whole mob saw her as they passed by her. She did have a prominent chest, after all…

A bit _too_ prominent, come to think of it. Bluestreak checked herself, horrified to see that her chest plate had indeed become larger and she was coloured lime-green as well.

Bluestreak slapped her forehead and groaned. Things were getting better and better. Not to mention the fact that that funny music kept playing...

Another stampeding sound reached her audios, and Bluestreak was afraid for a second that she had been spotted. There was no need for an alarm. It was just a burly man with round cheeks and intelligent eyes who simply zipped past her, tipping his bowler hat in greeting and then disappearing in the horizon before his _own _mob caught up with him.

Bluestreak felt like her cranial unit would explode. Deciding that the best thing to do was lock herself in her dorm and wait for the worst to pass, she stepped out of her hiding place… and came face to face with Megatron himself.

"Well, well… aren't you a pretty one," the Decepticon leader mused aloud, rubbing his chin in thought. "I don't think I've seen you before. Are your lips as sweet as you?" With that, Megatron grabbed Bluestreak by the shoulders, his lips parting hungrily…

And then Bluestreak woke up with a gasp, falling off her berth in the process. Her landing was quite unceremonious, to say the least.

"Ow…" she said mournfully as she sat up with a wince. She moved her doors a couple of times to make sure that she didn't do any damage to them, and got back on her feet. Honestly, she had enough problems; she didn't need any nightmares added in the mix.

_Wait a minute…_ Bluestreak looked around, for she noticed that Prowl wasn't in the room. Bluestreak supposed that the tactician had to see to other matters and he couldn't exactly do that from his dorm.

On the other hand, the place was quiet now… too quiet.

"Maybe he'll be back soon," she reasoned aloud, wishing to somehow break the silence. "He'll want to check up on me."

And there lay the problem. Bluestreak wasn't sure _how_ soon would that be. Sighing, the gunner decided to try and find a way to pass her time, since going back to sleep was out of the question for now. She reached for the small datapad-case and picked one of her favourite books but, after a while, Bluestreak put the datapad back in its place. It was very easy for her to finish a book that she had already read before and she only had to skim through the good parts, after all.

Unfortunately, she didn't have any new books, which left her with one other option: borrow one of Prowl's. She preferred asking for her mentor's permission first, but she supposed that he wouldn't mind under the circumstances. With that thought in mind, she picked up one of Prowl's datapads and turned it on to check on the title. _A Study In Scarlet._

Hmm… Bluestreak never thought Prowl would be interested in art _that _much. Still, she lay down on her berth and started reading.

-----------------

As it turned out, the book had hardly anything to do with art. It was a human mystery story, in which a detective and his companion examined all the clues to figure out the puzzle behind an atrocious murder in an abandoned house in London. The detective was practically a human version of Prowl, and Bluestreak couldn't help but imagine the tactician in a grey-mouse robe and playing the violin in his office in order to think. She chuckled softly as she caught herself so immersed in the book that her nose almost touched the monitor of the datapad.

But then, her reading halted to a screech. As it turned out, an old lady that visited the detective was, in fact, a man in disguise. Just when she had forgotten about her own gender-switch, too!

Groaning, she placed the datapad aside and fidgeted on her berth, growing restless again. She checked the time on the computer screen.

Hmm… An hour past midnight. Most of the Autobots would have probably retired to their own quarters by now, so she could probably venture out of the dorm without running into too many familiar faces. With that settled in her mind, she walked up to the door, opened it, and dared a peek out the corridor. There was no one there, either within visual or audio range. Things looked good so far.

Mustering all her courage, Bluestreak took a couple of steps outside the room. She almost jumped when the door hissed closed behind her but, if anything, it motivated her to continue on and head towards the common room. She kept her step quick and light, and it wasn't long before she finally reached her destination. She popped her head inside.

"Hello?" she said, looking every which way in case she saw anybody else present in the common room; but the place was empty. Sighing in relief, she made a beeline for the couch and grabbed the remote control. Hopefully, there would be something good on TV.

"Bluestreak?"

Bluestreak turned around, startled, and she saw Inferno standing at the threshold. Though she felt very self-conscious, she controlled herself and tried to stay calm.

"Um… Hi." She nodded in the direction of the TV. "Did you want to watch something?"

"Nah, I'm good," Inferno said. "I was on mah way to my room when I saw ya actually." He gave the gunner the once over and he chuckled. "You know… you don't look half-bad as a femme."

"Something tells me I'll be hearing that a lot in the next few days," Bluestreak said grimly. "At least you didn't run off in terror like someone else," she added under her breath.

"Really? Who?" Inferno asked, overhearing the femme.

"It doesn't matter," Bluestreak said, waving her hand dismissively. Well, it _did _matter to her, truth be told; but she figured she didn't have to bore Inferno with her problems. "Were you on patrol?"

If Inferno realised that Bluestreak was just trying to change the subject, he certainly didn't show it. "Yeah, Red and I drove around the perimeter as part of our night shift," he said, sitting down next to Bluestreak. "I'd have preferred it if we didn't have to go through that, but Red was persistent."

"I can guess," Bluestreak said with a shake of her head. "Where's Red now?"

"Knowing him, he's probably gone to check on the security cameras again," Inferno answered. "What I wanna know is: what are _you _doing here at this time of night?"

She shrugged. "I couldn't sleep and I didn't feel like staying in my dorm."

"What about your duties tomorrow?"

"I'm not sure. Prowl didn't say anything about that." Bluestreak frowned slightly. "Do you think he's forgotten?"

"That, or he figured that ya needed a day off to get used to yer new self," Inferno replied. He paused for a moment, contemplating matters. "So what does it feel like being a femme?"

_I don't know. What does it feel like being a mech?_ was the first thought that crossed Bluestreak's mind. However, since she had been a mech before, she knew what it was like and that made the question pointless. As a mech, Bluestreak always regarded Inferno as a good, caring friend, and a reliable fellow Autobot. Now, as a femme, she could also add to herself that the fire-truck was also quite good-looking with a very sweet smile. Inferno's bondmate – Firestar, was it? – was definitely a very lucky femme.

"It uh… puts things under a different light," Bluestreak answered, wincing inwardly at that last thought of his. Yes, _his. _He was a _mech_; a mech who just happened to look like a femme right now. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Ya just sounded like Firestar now," Inferno declared with a chuckle, without realising of course that _that _made Bluestreak die a little inside. He stood up, stretching his circuitry with a purr-like rev of his engines. "Well, ya might not be tired, but I'm beat. Goodnight, Bluestreak."

"Goodnight," Bluestreak answered, watching Inferno go, and then turned on the TV.

"_It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. It is an area we call… the Twilight Zone."_

"I'm already in it," Bluestreak muttered. Nevertheless, she continued watching the show, all the while wondering just how the next four weeks of his life as a femme would be.

TBC...


	5. Security Breach

When Bluestreak onlined once more, she was surprised to see that she was back on her berth. She sat up with a frown and looked around, rebooting her optics so as to make sure that she didn't have a glitch in her visual circuitry.

No, everything operated just fine. But that didn't explain why she didn't remember returning to her dorm.

"Okay, calm down. There's got to be a logical explanation," Bluestreak said aloud. She started thinking hard, and the last thing she could recall from her memory databanks was watching the show. Bluestreak must have fallen asleep during the end credits and, obviously, someone saw her recharging and figured they should carry her back to her dorm.

It was thoughtful of them, admittedly… even if it did discomfit the young gunner a bit. Bluestreak really wished she knew who had done this.

_Let's see now. What would Prowl do?_ she thought, pursing her lips.

Probably investigate matters, came the logical conclusion; so, Bluestreak decided to do just that.

Coming out of her dorm was a lot easier today than yesterday, probably because there was no one in the corridors again. Taking advantage of the situation, she walked straight to Prowl's office.

"Prowl?" she called. She waited a bit, but she didn't get an answer. "Prowl?"

"He's not here, Bluestreak," Ironhide's voice sounded at that moment. Bluestreak spun around to see that the veteran Autobot was indeed behind her. "He's gone with Prime to the city over some business of sorts."

"Oh," she said, feeling downcast. She had hoped she could ask him about last night, since her mentor was the most possible suspect of her small inquiry.

"Aww, don't worry. I'm sure he'll be back soon," Ironhide said, nodding. "Unless there's something _I _can help you with?"

Images of her nightmare flashed before Bluestreak's optics and, even though she knew that in reality Ironhide would never attempt anything against her person, it took all of her willpower not to bolt right there and then.

"You okay, Bluestreak?" Ironhide asked, regarding the gunner in a curious manner.

"Uh… Yeah… Peachy," she replied, wincing inwardly at the lame giggle that flowed out of her lip components. _Smooth, Bluestreak. Really smooth._ "Well, I was wondering if Prowl needed any energon, since I figured he would like the energy boost to start his day. But if he's gone, he's probably already had some, so that kinda settles matters, doesn't it?"

"Sure does," Ironhide said, although it sounded as if he was simply indulging the femme. "What about you, girl? Did you have anything this morning?"

_Girl? _Bluestreak thought, mortified. "No, not really," she answered.

"Then come on," Ironhide said and beckoned Bluestreak to walk with him. "I'm on my way to the common room."

Bluestreak felt officially cornered and, if she could, she would have kicked herself for walking right into that trap. There was no turning back now, though, and she did feel rather hungry, come to think of it.

"Okay," she said and followed the veteran Autobot down the corridor. What was the worst thing that could happen anyway?

She found out when she stepped into the common room. Almost all the Ark-crew was there, getting their own share of energon for the day, and, unfortunately, _they _saw her too.

"Well, hello!" Cliffjumper said, looking up at Bluestreak with a big grin on his face. "What is a nice femme like you doing in a place like this?"

Bluestreak glared at the red minibot. "Very funny, Cliffjumper."

Cliffjumper simply chuckled and continued on his way to his table. Ironhide shook his head in disapproval and patted the gunner on the shoulder.

"Don't mind him, kiddo. Just go and have a seat," he said, and he headed towards Ratchet and Wheeljack.

Bluestreak wanted to follow Ironhide's advice but, as she looked around the mech-infested room, she realised that that was easier said than done. There was no place for her to sit.

_I'll just grab a cube and go, _she decided, walking up to the energon dispenser. But, as she reached for one of the empty cubes, her hand bumped on a much larger black hand. _Grimlock's _hand.

Bluestreak felt her doom approaching with the speed of a tetrajet. Grimlock never, _ever _let anyone touch anything that he believed belonged to him by right; a right that the Dinobot was eager to exercise with his fist, if need be. All Bluestreak could do was brace herself for the incoming tantrum.

The moments ticked by, but nothing happened. Bluestreak opened one of her optics, just a bit, and dared a peek at Grimlock.

"Ah… you Bluestreak can have cube," Grimlock said, "Me Grimlock don't mind."

Bluestreak stared at the huge Dinobot incredulously.

_Did Grimlock just say…?_

_No way, _she thought. And yet, Grimlock still regarded her with quite the strange look in his visor, as if he expected something from her. Never taking her optics off him, she reached for the cube once more, freezing as her fingers wrapped around it.

Nothing happened again. Not even when Bluestreak picked up the cube.

"Thanks," she finally said, "… I think."

Grimlock beamed at that. "You Bluestreak welcome."

With that, Grimlock went about his own business, leaving Bluestreak positively dumbfounded. She couldn't for the life of her understand why Grimlock should suddenly be so polite, so… nice.

Wait a minute. There had been this particular incident during last Christmas, when Elita-1, Chromia, Moonracer and Firestar had come to Earth to spend some time with their bondmates. Sludge had seen them and actually charged at them, thinking that the four femmes were some sort of oddly-shaped Decepticons. It had taken Wheeljack over three hours to explain to all the Dinobots that attacking femmes was very bad that they shouldn't do it under any circumstances. So… that meant Bluestreak was now included in the list of "Don'ts".

Well, being a femme _had _its advantages after all. Smiling at that discovery, Bluestreak filled her cube and got out… unaware she was being watched.

* * *

A few minutes later, Bluestreak felt refreshed and charged up once more, and she could carry on with her impromptu investigation without any further setbacks. True, Prowl hadn't come back to the Ark and so she couldn't talk to him yet. However, she noticed one of the security cameras while she was drinking her ration of energon, and that gave her an idea. She walked towards the control room and pressed the call button, declaring her arrival. It wasn't a good idea to go to Red Alert's domain unannounced; several unfortunate Autobots could personally attest to that.

"Come in, it's unlocked!" Bumblebee's voice sounded from inside.

Frowning, Bluestreak opened the door and looked inside. Her audios hadn't played tricks on her; Bumblebee was really sitting in Red Alert's usual place on the chair in front of the monitors.

The yellow minibot looked at her, and he smiled broadly. "Hey, beautiful. Come here often?"

"Not you, too," Bluestreak said with a sigh, but she had to admit to herself that Bumblebee's tease wasn't as bad as Cliffjumper's. "Isn't Red on duty today?"

"No, sorry," Bumblebee replied, "It's my turn for monitor duty today."

"Oh, okay." Nodding her understanding, she turned on her heel and headed towards the exit, apologising to Bumblebee for disturbing him. But she stopped midway when it dawned on her that she could still go through with what she had in mind.

"Um… Bumblebee? Can I ask you for a favour?"

Bumblebee sat up. "Sure. What is it?" he asked, looking intrigued.

"Could you put on screen the recordings of the camera in the common room?"

"I suppose. What time are we talking about?"

"After 1 o'clock in the morning."

"Okay," Bumblebee said, typing the instruction. A few seconds later, the recording sprang to life on the main monitor, revealing Bluestreak lying on the couch in deep recharge. "Awww… You look sweet when you're sleeping."

Bluestreak felt his face-plate becoming red. "Just… put it on fast-forward, please."

Bumblebee chuckled and did just that. The minutes blinked in rapid succession without any change to the camera; that is, until the camera's time readings switched all of a sudden, and Bluestreak was gone out of the room as if she had disappeared.

"Now that's odd," Bumblebee noted. He typed some further instructions on the control panel. "Looks like someone's tampered with the security files."

"Yeah," Bluestreak mused, her optics still on the monitor. "Any idea who was on monitor duty last night?"

"Not a clue," Bumblebee admitted, "But Red is at the archives' section, you can ask him."

"I will. Thanks Bumblebee," the gunner said and patted the minibot on the shoulder before exiting.

* * *

Sure enough, Red was just where Bumblebee had said. The security chief was reading a certain datapad, seeming oblivious to everything and everyone. So, Bluestreak made a sound as if clearing his vocaliser in order to get his attention.

Red Alert snapped his head up, but relaxed when he saw who it was.

"Hello, Bluestreak," he said politely. "I never expected to see you down here. Is something wrong?"

"Uh… no, not _really_," Bluestreak replied as diplomatically as she could. She couldn't exactly tell Red Alert that someone had messed with his security cameras. She didn't know how Red would react and, frankly, she didn't want to find out. "I just wanted to ask you a question, if that's okay with you."

"It depends on the question," Red answered, eyeing Bluestreak closely. "Does it involve disclosing information available only to the officers within the Ark?"

Bluestreak blinked. "Why would I ask something like that?"

"Just making sure. Would the Decepticons benefit from my answer if they were currently eavesdropping?"

"I don't think so," Bluestreak said, scratching the back of her helm.

"Is it a personal question?"

"No!"

Red Alert thought about it for a few seconds. "Then go ahead."

"Okay," Bluestreak said, mustering her courage. "Can you tell me who was on monitor duty last night?"

Red pursed is lips momentarily. "I can. The question is: why do you want to know?"

_Primus, this isn't going to be easy, is it?_ Bluestreak thought wryly. "Just curious," she said.

That, apparently, was a bad answer. Red was now regarding Bluestreak closely, scrutinising her. "There's no such thing as mere curiosity. You want to know something."

"Well, yeah," Bluestreak said, feeling her former confidence wavering, "But it's nothing bad, I swear!"

"If it wasn't, you would have been open about it in the first place," Red Alert said. "So what are you hiding?"

"Nothing!" Bluestreak exclaimed, "I just didn't want to tell you that somebody altered your security files, 'cause I know that would only upset you and I didn't want that. I still remember what happened this one time when you…" Bluestreak's voice trailed off, for realisation caught up with her. Plus, Red Alert was currently looking at her agape.

"Red Alert?" she asked, quite apprehensively.

"Somebody… hacked into my security system?" Red asked slowly, his tone eerily quiet. "_My _security system?"

"Uh… Yeah?" Bluestreak said, her voice very small.

Red snapped into action and opened his communication frequencies.

"Ironhide, this is Security Chief Red Alert. I want to speak to Skydive, Huffer and Windcharger _now!_"

_Oh, man… _Bluestreak thought, _That really did it._

On the bright side though, she did find out who was on monitor duty.

_TBC..._


	6. A Curiosity

_A/n:__ Time to find out who was the mystery mech behind it all. ;)_

* * *

Bluestreak might have found out who had been on monitor duty, but it had hardly helped her. Though Skydive, Huffer and Windcharger had got questioned by Red Alert almost relentlessly (Soundwave would have probably taken down a note or two if he were present), all three of them denied logging in to the security files. As Prowl even pointed out, it didn't make sense for any of them to go through that kind of trouble when there was no sort of motive behind that course of action.

Besides, when Ratchet ran a diagnostics scan on Teletraan I, it turned out that the hacking was done remotely, and the electronic data matched with a Decepticon terminal on Cybertron. That certainly indicated that the hacking was Decepticon work, so there was nothing the Autobots could do. They were just glad that the hacker was quite the amateur and didn't manage to do any real damage.

So now, three days after the particular incident, Bluestreak found herself back to square one. She had examined every possibility and clue, however meagre it was, only to decide that this wasn't getting her anywhere. Moreover, she had other issues to settle, especially since she came back to duty as an Autobot soldier. That left her with little time to spare on wild good chases, as the humans always put it.

It first happened the day before yesterday. She was carrying two missiles with which Optimus's trailer was equipped so that Wheeljack could do some maintenance on them, and Silverbolt _insisted _he should carry at least one of the missiles. Not only that, he kept asking her if she was okay with carrying "such a heavy load". Bluestreak was patient, replying politely that it was no trouble for her at all and, as a matter of fact, her creator, also a femme, used to carry even heavier equipment. That finally seemed to appease Silverbolt, so he didn't argue with her any further.

Then, Sideswipe thought it would be a great idea to play any kind of human song that just _had _to talk about some female or other. Worse, Sideswipe didn't look like he'd abandon his new hobby any time soon. Bluestreak deemed that she would just have to deal with it; but, if she never heard 'Pretty Woman' and 'Woman In Red' once she was back to her good old _mech_ self again, it would be too soon.

And, of course, everyone seemed overly zealous to watch their language in front of her. Though it was fun that mechs such as Ironhide, Brawn and Gears had to force themselves not to utter 'frag', 'slag' and 'aft' whenever she was close by, it made her feel as though she was considered a sparkling instead of a femme. Not to mention the looks she got whenever _she_ accidentally let out a swear word in frustration herself. Those ranged from utterly scandalised to sheer disapproval. Whatever happened to the good old days that his companions teased him because he hardly ever swore?

And let's not forget the nicknames, for that matter. Almost everyone seemed quite eager to call her either 'sweetheart' (yeah, how nice of you, Powerglide), 'cupcake' (just where did Wheeljack hear that one?) or 'babe' (blast it, Slingshot!). Even those, however, paled in comparison to the nickname 'sexy', which was courtesy of Blaster.

Admittedly, there were still a few Autobots who still dealt with her normally, or at least as normally as it was possible under the circumstances. Prowl and Optimus were a couple of shining examples, as well as Ratchet and Smokescreen, surprisingly enough. If Bluestreak racked her mind, she would probably think of a couple of more Autobots, but she didn't deal with them on a regular basis – they were all engaged to their duties.

Sunstreaker, on the other hand, was a whole category of his own. Though Bluestreak had assured Prowl that the yellow frontliner would come round and accept her, she was now at a complete loss as to what to do about him. Sunstreaker barely acknowledged her presence anymore, either by pretending he didn't see her or act deaf. And, as she found out just yesterday (Trailbreaker was quite the talkative mech when he was in the mood), he also went through a lot of trouble to make sure that he didn't have to be on the same shift with the femme even once.

Huffing, Bluestreak kicked an invisible stone and continued on her way down the corridor that led to the washracks. She had just finished patrolling the entire rural area while rain was bucketing down, and she was covered in mud in the most uncomfortable places. Hopefully, there would be enough hot water so that she could wash herself properly rather than have just a hasty shower. And then maybe she would wax herself. Her paintjob did look a bit lacklustre.

The door to the washracks opened with a gentle hiss… and the first thing she saw was Sunstreaker under the spray of water. She froze, almost expecting the yellow Lamborghini to shout at her to get out; if there was something that he valued, it was his private time while bathing. But Sunstreaker had his back to her and, just this once, he genuinely didn't notice her.

_Great,_ Bluestreak thought. Sunstreaker also had the nasty habit of spending a whole hour in the washracks, which meant Bluestreak would have to put up with the stench of the mud till the Lamborghini decided to come out. And, of course, there wouldn't be any hot water left for her by then.

It was true that Bluestreak would usually retreat and put up with the situation. Now, though, she decided she should just go ahead and march in. It would also give her the opportunity to mince some words with Sunstreaker.

She boldly went in, and _that_ finally made Sunstreaker turn around. To say that he was shocked to see Bluestreak there would have been an understatement, since his jaw looked like it was about to drop on the floor with a clank.

"What are you doing?! I'm a having a bath here!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, I know," Bluestreak said, grabbing the cleansing solution and a sponge.

Sunstreaker stared at the femme incredulously. "Since when do you barge in when someone else has a bath?"

"Since I decided that there's no point in waiting when there are three more stalls in the washracks," she declared and activated the shower on her own stall. She closed her optics momentarily as the warm water sprayed on her in generous amounts, and then she poured some of the solution on the sponge.

Sunstreaker took a step back, practically glaring at Bluestreak. "Just watch it, will you? You're spilling mud all over the place!"

"Now you know why I wouldn't wait," Bluestreak retorted, and she started washing her face with swift movements. When she felt Sunstreaker still glaring at her, she returned the gaze, unafraid. "If you don't like it, you can just leave. You seem to be doing that a lot whenever I'm around lately."

Sunstreaker's optics widened for a moment, just briefly; but the Lamborghini snorted at the very next moment. "Don't be ridiculous," he said, and he continued washing his arms.

"_I'm_ the ridiculous one? You're the one acting as though I have cyber-cooties!" Bluestreak said, cleaning her shoulders and chest-plate. "Or are you going to deny that you've even purposefully changed shifts with Mirage so you wouldn't be with me?"

Sunstreaker looked at Bluestreak, agape. "How did you…?" But he quickly shut his mouth at once, realising his slip. "Fine, I did. So sue me."

Bluestreak used to be a sweet, patient mech, and she wanted to believe that she would remain a sweet, patient femme as well. Sunstreaker, however, was rapidly making her fluid boil.

"So it's okay for me to be your friend when I'm a mech, but I'm off limits to you as a femme?" Bluestreak said exasperatedly. "I'm _beneath _you, is that it?"

Sunstreaker's scowl vanished into thin air; he didn't even bother to hide his shock. Bluestreak was past caring anymore, though. She kept talking, still washing herself with swift, angry motions.

"Well, I'm sorry. I didn't realise full silver lip-components and long lashes could make you blush." Rich foam covered her chestplate and midsection, and she then started cleaning her back. "It's nice to see that the commercial the humans asked Powerglide to do is getting its message across."

"Bluestreak…" Sunstreaker said, his voice slightly strained, "You'd better stop."

"Oh no, I'm just getting started," Bluestreak declared and she stepped closer to the Lamborghini. She was momentarily surprised to see Sunstreaker stepping back until he was pressed against the wall - she didn't realise that she could be that intimidating in her wrath.

That, or he didn't want her to spill mud on him. That seemed more logical.

"It's still me under this face. The one who covers your aft in battle and the one who _kicks _it in Mortal Kombat; the one you hang out with whenever Sideswipe isn't around; the one who stays with you outside the medbay when your brother is hurt; the one who--" Realising that she was about to say something that she would definitely regret, she stopped midway. "It's _me!_ Do I make myself clear?"

Sunstreaker didn't like her outburst at all; Bluestreak could tell. She could hear his air vents working furiously as he breathed quicker, almost erratically, and his hands were clenched tightly into fists. For a moment, Bluestreak thought he would lunge at her and give her a piece of his own mind, but nothing of the sort happened.

"Yeah," he answered, quite hoarsely. "Now back off."

"Fine," she said. "I'll finish my bath and then--"

"NO!"

Bluestreak flinched at that cry, and she felt her optics widening. "What?!"

"You're clean enough," the frontliner blurted out.

Bluestreak frowned and looked at Sunstreaker closely. He had barely moved an inch from his refuge against the wall, and he was standing so rigidly that he looked as though something crawled up his aft.

"You really want me to leave, don't you?" she asked quietly. _Please, say no… _she thought, somehow hoping that Sunstreaker would sense that and he would stop acting like such an idiot.

"Yeah," Sunstreaker answered at once, nodding.

That was the final straw. Fuming, Bluestreak grabbed a towel to dry herself, flung it at Sunstreaker and she practically stomped out.

"INCONSIDERATE, SELF-CENTERED JERK!" she screamed in his direction, but it was of no use; the door had already hissed closed behind her. Since there was nothing left in here to do, she decided to go back to her dorm and find something worthless enough to break.

* * *

Unfortunately, Bluestreak didn't find anything on which she could vent her frustration inside her dorm, so she had to go for the next best thing: the shooting range. That's where she currently was, firing at every holographic image with unprecedented accuracy and ruthlessness, imagining that she was actually shooting at a mech as yellow as his plating. She wasn't in the least surprised when the computer declared that not only she had beaten her previous personal record, but she had made a new high-score.

"Joy," Bluestreak muttered, putting the training gun back in its place.

She was no longer angry with Sunstreaker, admittedly. That, however, didn't stop her from feeling disappointed at him. She had considered him a friend for millennia. Even if he didn't like the current situation, the least he could have done was tolerate it.

And to think she used to think so highly of him. Sure, he had an ego as big Omega Supreme, if not bigger; but they still got along. Well enough to accept her in his company, to share with her all kinds of games, jokes and stories… even defend her if anyone spoke badly to her. She still remembered that incident only too clearly, even though it had happened back in Cybertron, when she was a mech and just a recruit. It was then that their unlikely friendship had been cemented.

That is, until now. She let out a puff of air in a huff, berating herself for lingering into a past that didn't matter anymore, and she went up to the computer to put the settings back at default. In the next moment, though, she stopped in her tracks, for she noticed something very weird on the keyboard. In fact, it looked like…

She picked it up, astonished. It _was _a rose. It was made of coloured paper, but it was almost as beautiful as if it were a real one.

_Who…?_

Just then, she caught sight of a small note with her name on it, so she hastily picked it up and started reading it.

_A beautiful face deserves only the sun, not the rain. Because when you shine, the world shines with you._

Bluestreak read the few words again and again dubiously, fingers tracing the steady, yet elegant writing. A part of her insisted that this looked like some sort of a bad joke and yet… something told her that, whoever had written the note, was sincere.

"Just what I needed… A secret admirer," she mused wryly. Even so, she had to admit that she did feel her spirits lifting. As she started twirling the rose in her fingers, a small smile formed on her lips and she deemed that the day hadn't been so bad after all.

* * *

He watched her from a distance, making sure that the cameras didn't catch him. He wasn't sure how Bluestreak would react to the gift, but he hoped that it would do its charm. Sure, it worked on Cybertronians that had been femmes all their lives, but this was Bluestreak he was dealing with.

_Come on, smile already,_ he thought, hardly noticing how tense he was.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the silver lip components twitched and tugged into that sweet smile that was all Bluestreak, regardless of gender. Sighing in relief and feeling that his job was done, he decided to walk away before anyone saw him.

"Care to explain what you're doing?"

Dang. Busted. By his own brother, no less.

"What _you _should be doing," Sideswipe answered, glaring at Sunstreaker.

"I don't remember asking for your help," the yellow Lamborghini said, his voice a low snarl.

"You didn't have a problem when I had those recordings of you carrying Bluestreak back to her dorm erased," Sideswipe retorted.

"Wait. That was _you?_" Sunstreaker asked, genuinely surprised. "I thought a Decepticon had something to do with it."

"Ah, yes… and he _conveniently_ erased those exact files," the red Lamborghini replied in quite the sarcastic tone. "Are you kidding me?"

"Fine, you got me," Sunstreaker said with a huff. He really didn't have the energy to argue with his brother at the moment. "How did you pull that off anyway?"

Sideswipe gave him a pointed look that made Sunstreaker catch on.

"Right. Your hacker of a girlfriend. Nightrider, was it?" he muttered.

"Yup. And she's not my girlfriend… yet," Sideswipe declared cheekily. "By the way, thanks to you, this is the second favour I owe her big time."

"Which makes my point still valid," Sunstreaker said with a scowl. "Nobody asked you to interfere."

"Watch it, or I will definitely start wondering why do I even bother covering your aft," Sideswipe said.

"_I'm _wondering that already!"

"Are you telling me that you're okay with the way you've been treating Bluestreak lately?"

Sunstreaker froze, but Sideswipe was far from done.

"I mean, seriously, Bro. You're acting even more psychotic than you usually do, and I didn't think that was possible," the red warrior said, and he walked up to his twin. "I saw the recordings. I saw that look in your optics when you carried her."

"Muzzle it," Sunstreaker growled, clenching his hands into fists.

"Or what? You'll hit me?" Sideswipe said. "That will only prove I'm right!"

Sunstreaker let out a noise of exasperation and grabbed Sideswipe by the arm.

"What do you want me to say?" he hissed. "That our naïve, innocent friend has become a sweet femme whom I want to hold close and never let go? That every time I look at her I want to kiss her senseless? That she's like a dream come true?"

Sideswipe shrugged. "It's a start."

"Well, I can't. And I won't," Sunstreaker said, letting go of his brother's arm.

"Why?" the red warrior asked, perplexed. "You _do _like her, right? So what is there to lose?"

"_Him!_ Don't you get it?" Sunstreaker snapped.

Sideswipe felt like his spark missed a pulse, for Sunstreaker made a valid – and scary – point. If Bluestreak and Sunstreaker got together, then Bluestreak would want to stay as a femme, which meant one thing: the twins would lose their best friend forever.

"I… didn't think of that," Sideswipe whispered.

"I noticed," Sunstreaker said wryly. He sat in a drained manner on the floor and rested his back against the wall. "I can't wait till this month is over. At least then things will be back to normal."

Sideswipe nodded glumly, and he sat next to Sunstreaker in a form of companionship and support.

However, he didn't voice the _other _thought that had crossed his mind. Sunstreaker, the number one egotistical resident within the Ark admitted that he was attracted to Bluestreak's femme version… but instead of taking advantage of that, the way he always did, he declared he wanted the _old _Bluestreak back.

Interesting. Very interesting.

TBC...


	7. Trouble Brewing

Bluestreak kept the fake rose in subspace, only taking it out whenever she was absolutely certain that no one was watching her; she didn't want any curious Autobots to ask any questions, especially when she couldn't answer half of them. Moreover, as long as she and her admirer were the only ones who knew of its existence, it would be much easier for her to find out who was behind the thoughtful gift; he deserved a thanks, at the very least.

Even so, she couldn't help but also feel confused by that gesture. Was it just a way to cheer her up or did it mean something more? If it were the latter, than it was rather selfish of said admirer to confess his affections now that she was a femme. It meant that he was fond of her face, not of who she_ really_ was. More importantly, she didn't intend to stay a femmeforever. She missed being a mech, able to work with her fellow Autobots without having to think whether they really considered her their equal or not. It was a sort of insecurity that just wouldn't go away, no matter how respectfully everyone seemed to treat her.

Well, almost. Next time Cliffjumper grabbed her behind, she'd shoot both his arms off.

The monitors before her blinked for a moment, snapping her off her musings. Remembering that she was on surveillance duty, she sat back on her seat and resumed watching the monitors.

However, that was easier said than done. Soon, Bluestreak was lost in thought again. Optimus had told her that a journalist wanted to meet her later that day and that she should be as courteous and polite to her as possible. In fact, the Autobot leader had arranged for Prowl to prepare for her a list of possible questions and answers that she would have to memorise. Bluestreak was glad about that. She never had had to do an interview before, and she was actually nervous; she didn't want to make a blunder out of things.

Just then, the door behind her slid open, something that puzzled Bluestreak. It was still too early for a change of shifts and, as far as she knew, Red was still in his quarters, resting. So who could it be?

She turned around, blinking in surprise when she saw nobody there. Just then, the sound of a girl's voice reached his audios.

"Down here, Bluestreak."

"Oh!" Bluestreak lowered her gaze and smiled politely at the sight of the familiar face. "Hey, Carly."

"Hey," the blond girl said, smiling a bit as well. "Wheeljack said you would be here, and I wanted to see you."

"Really?" Bluestreak asked. "Well, uh… you found me. What can I do for you?"

"Nothing. I mean…" She sighed. "I just want to stay here for a while. Is that okay with you?"

The gunner had to admit to herself that she hadn't expected that. Still, she supposed she could use the company; surveillance duty could be pretty lonely.

"Sure," she said. She gently picked up the girl and placed her on the control board, hoping that that would make things easier for her; there was no need for Carly to strain her neck more than necessary. Carly sat on the edge of the board, legs hanging on the air and hands resting on the hard surface so she could keep her balance.

"Thanks," she said, clearly grateful.

"No problem," Bluestreak replied. "I should warn you though, I'm not doing anything really exciting at the moment, so you might get bored easily, which is only natural. Spike isn't around here either and--"

"Can we not talk about Spike?" Carly said, cutting into Bluestreak's stream of babble.

Bluestreak blinked. "Why?"

Carly lifted her gaze, and Bluestreak finally noticed it. The girl seemed on the verge of tears, doing her best not to break down and actually cry.

"What's wrong?" Bluestreak asked, genuinely puzzled and concerned. Carly was one of the happiest girls she knew. Granted, she only knew Carly, but that was beside the point. The girl shouldn't be in this state.

Carly sighed and hugged her legs. "Spike and I had a fight."

"Oh." Bluestreak was quite embarrassed now. "Uh… over what?"

"A stupid thing," Carly answered, "But Spike always makes a mountain out of a molehill."

"He does?" Bluestreak mused aloud. Carly hardly paid attention to her, though. She was getting worked up once more, and she continued talking.

"So I can't see him as often as he would have liked. It's not that I have much choice in the matter; I have to attend my classes! But no, Mr. Tough Guy wants his woman at his beck and call!"

"Did… Did you tell him that?" Bluestreak asked, fidgeting in her seat.

"I certainly did," Carly said, "And he had the audacity to make me choose between him and my studies!"

Bluestreak sat up on her seat, her optics widening tenfold. "He actually said that?"

"Well, no. But he definitely sounded like it!" Carly said.

The gunner frowned. "That's not fair. You worked hard for that scholarship. And if you thought your relationship with Spike wouldn't have worked, you would have ended things between you two long ago."

"Exactly! Except _he _doesn't understand that!" the girl said. "Honestly, how can guys be so thick?"

"Beats me," Bluestreak answered, a huff flowing at of her lips. "You try and talk to them, hoping you can work things out with them somehow, and what do they do?"

"They wear blinkers and act as if their own opinion is the only one that should matter," Carly completed, shaking her head.

"And Primus forbid if you try and tell them otherwise!" Bluestreak exclaimed. "They just want to finish their bath!"

Carly tilted her head, staring at Bluestreak. "What bath?"

Bluestreak kicked herself mentally for her slip-up. "Nothing. I just recalled something I wanted to forget," she answered.

Carly nodded her head in sympathy. "Troubles of your own, huh?"

Bluestreak decided that there was no pointing in hiding the truth. "Yeah."

The girl patted the gunner's arm. "I'm still glad you listened anyway. I needed to get that weight off my chest."

"That makes two of us," Bluestreak replied, fingers carefully pushing a lock of blond hair behind Carly's ear. "So what are you going to do now?"

Carly shrugged. "Honestly? I don't know."

"But you still love him, right?" Bluestreak asked.

"I do. But not when he's acting like that," the girl answered. "As far as I'm concerned, it's now up to him whether he wants _us _to work out or not."

Bluestreak nodded, understanding exactly what her friend meant. She just hoped that Spike would snap out of it and finally do the right thing.

"Carly?"

Both the gunner and the girl turned around when they heard that soft voice. Spike was standing at the threshold, shuffling his feet in quite the embarrassed manner. Bluestreak, however, could tell that Carly was still wary. The girl's expression was neutral, almost cold.

"Yeah?" she said.

Spike winced visibly. "Uh… can we talk?"

Carly thought about it for a moment.

"I guess so," she said in the end, and she looked up at the gunner. "Bluestreak?"

Bluestreak understood, and she gently lowered Carly on the floor. She watched on as Carly approached Spike slowly and then exchanged a few words with him. Bluestreak was touched when she saw Spike taking out of his pocket a small rose and offering it to the girl, and she waited with bated breath to see what Carly would do next.

Carly seemed surprised at first; nevertheless, she took the small rose, a soft smile tugging on her lips. In moments, her anger vanished and she flung herself in Spike's arms.

Bluestreak smiled at that and she resumed watching the monitors. She figured she had to give the humans a bit of privacy, and she needed some time to think as well.

The truth of the matter was that Bluestreak felt a bit jealous. Carly had got her apology, but it didn't look that a certain yellow Lamborghini would ever grow up the backbone to apologise to _her._ Sure, she wasn't expecting a rose and words of love. Still…

Bluestreak stopped that train of thought with a mental screech, for it was then that something important occurred to her. She _had _got a rose and words of love, and she had got them a couple of hours after her fight with Sunstreaker.

Was it possible that Sunstreaker …?

Bluestreak shook her head with a sigh. No, that wasn't the yellow Lamborhini's style. It was too romantic, and Sunstreaker was anything but that if his previous love affairs were any indication. She had heard enough of his stories to know that she shouldn't delude herself.

"Bluestreak?"

Bluestreak looked up, startled. Prowl was standing beside her, regarding her curiously. Feeling a blush creeping up her face, she scratched her helm in an embarrassed manner.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to get distracted," she said.

"It's fine; your shift is almost over, after all," Prowl said. "Huffer will come and relieve you shortly."

"Oh." That should have appeased Bluestreak, although she couldn't help but feel there was something more in Prowl's visit. "Is something wrong then?" she asked.

"No," Prowl said. "I came here to give you the questions and answers for that interview you're having this afternoon. I wanted you to have a look at them in case you want me to clarify something for you."

That's right. Bluestreak had completely forgotten about that. "Thanks," she said with a small smile and she reached for the datapad. She stopped at the last moment, however, and she caught herself looking in the direction where Carly and Spike had been just a few minutes ago.

Prowl regarded the gunner curiously. "Bluestreak?"

She looked back at her mentor. "Yeah, sorry." Her gaze drifted to the datapad, still considering matters carefully… and she finally pushed it gently towards Prowl.

"Actually, Prowl… I think I've got this."

A frown clouded Prowl's optics. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Bluestreak replied, smiling. "I can do it. I mean… what's the worst thing they could ask me?" And she meant it. Carly had to juggle scholarship and boyfriend and classes, and she seemed to manage fine on her own, more or less. Maybe she ought to start depending on her own strengths as well.

To her relief, Prowl didn't seem angry with her request at all. Instead, he placed the datapad in subspace, a small smile on his own lip components. "If you are sure, then I won't stop you. However, I will be with you so you won't feel alone."

"I'd like that," Bluestreak said her smile broadening. "Thanks, Prowl." Before she even realised what she was doing, she stood up and kissed her mentor lightly on his cheek, and then she exited the surveillance room.

She never saw Prowl standing frozen on the spot, trying to comprehend what had just happened… only to shake his head and wait for Huffer to take up his shift. His protégé did leave in quite the hurry, after all.

* * *

Though the Decepticons had the Nemesis as their main base of operations, it didn't mean that they always stayed underwater. The Constructicons could build a new secret base on land in less than a week, which was quite practical whenever Megatron planned an attack on a major energy source. If their base was close, they could afford to make guerrilla attacks in several places at once and steal energy before the Autobots could arrive and save the day. Plus, the Autobots had no idea where those temporary bases were located, so the Decepticons could repeat those attacks with great success.

That particular day, however, Megatron decided that there wouldn't be an attack. They had enough energy for the moment and it wasn't a bad idea to keep a low profile for a while. It threw off their enemies and, even better, they could enjoy the fruits of their labour.

It was precisely what the Decepticons were doing presently. Skywarp was sitting by the monitors, changing the channels in a lazy manner, while Thundercracker was on a couch and sipping some energon. The rest of their companions weren't that quiet, though. Rumble and Frenzy were arm-wrestling as Dirge and Ramjet were cheering them on, whereas the Stunticons were talking loudly, sharing a crude joke or two. Soundwave, on the other hand, was feeding an exuberant Laserbeak.

"Hey, not fair! You cheated!" Frenzy exclaimed, holding stiffly his pained arm.

"It's not my fault if you are a sissy!" Rumble retorted, sneering.

"Skywarp distracted me! He keeps changing the channels as if the remote is stuck!"

"Butt off, Frenzy!" Skywarp said, overhearing the red cassetticon. "I want to see if there's anything good on TV."

"And cause us seizures while at it," Motormaster replied.

"Who asked you, anyway?" Skywarp demanded with a scowl.

"Alright, that's enough, you two," Thundercracker said.

"Advice: sound," Soundwave seconded, "Skywarp, stop fidgeting with the controls."

"Fine, whatever," Skywarp said, pressing the button one final time.

"Hello, this is Donna McKormic. Welcome to another 'Interview In 60 Minutes'," the TV hostess said, smiling slightly as it was fitting for a serious journalist of her calibre. "This show has been honoured with the presence of a variety of VIPs, but this will be the first time that the show will host two guests from outer space. You've certainly heard about their kind and your kids adore them…"

All the Decepticons in the room looked up, staring at the monitor with visible frowns.

"She'd better not mean who I think she means," Motormaster said.

"Oh, she will say it. It's unavoidable as death," Dead End said, shaking his head mournfully.

The journalist continued talking. "They are, of course, the Autobots, the ever valiant robots who wage their battle--"

Groans and boos filled the room.

"Blast it, Skywarp! Do we have to listen to this?" Thundercracker asked.

"Program: undesirable. Switch channel at once," Soundwave said, Laserbeak's croaks of dismay seconding him to a tee.

Skywarp shook his head. "You wanted me to settle to onechannel. Well, this is it; so you'd better deal with it."

"Skywarp…!" Dirge started.

"Today, we'll be focusing on a particular soldier within the Autobot ranks. A gunner by the name of Bluestreak, whose case has been of immense interest and sets quite the example to all women around the nation…"

If the Decepticons were annoyed before, now they were downright disgusted.

"Great!" Rumble exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "Of all the goody two-shoes they could have picked, they went for the babbling one!"

"Yeah, the show should be named 'Interview In 60 days' for the occasion," Frenzy declared.

"So you still want to watch this?" Thundercracker asked, looking in Skywarp's direction.

"Yup," Skywarp replied without hesitation. "I'll be bored as the Pit, but you'll be bored along with me."

That earned Skywarp all sorts of names and curses, but the purple Seeker was hardly fazed. He was even ready to turn up the volume so that he would annoy the others even further, but he froze midway. His optics widened tenfold, and he almost dropped the remote in his astonishment.

"Hello, Mrs McKormic; it's good to be here," the gunner said, waving politely at the journalist. Prowl was sitting next to the young one, but Skywarp hardly paid attention to _him._

"Uh… Soundwave?"

"Yes?" the spy asked, actually sounding irritated.

"You're the intel officer. Does Bluestreak have a twin sister also named Bluestreak?"

If Soundwave could blink, he would have done so right there and then.

"I'm not kidding!" Skywarp said. "Look!"

Soundwave did, and so did the rest of the Decepticons in the room.

None could tell how long the following stunned silence lasted. Finally, Thundercracker was the first one to break it, voicing his thought in a slow and cautious manner.

"What in the Pit?"

"Talk about identity crisis or what," Ramjet noted, still trying to recover from his own shock.

"How did that happen…?" Dragstrip stammered.

"Shockwave mentioned damaging gunner Bluestreak in battle," Soundwave said. "We're obviously witnessing the results of the damage."

"We are?" Skywarp said.

"Affirmative," Soundwave replied.

Most of the Decepticons actually squeaked and stepped away from the monitor.

"Forget death. _This_ is _worse!_" Dead End declared.

Everyone nodded in unison, agreeing whole-heartedly. Rumble, on the other hand, was still standing close to the monitor, mouth still hanging open… and fluid drooling down his chin.

The rest of the Decepticons stared at him as if he had just grown a second head, something that the purple cassetticon probably noticed, for he looked back at them and huffed indignantly.

"Yeah, yeah, I know! It's the annoying Autobot gunner!" he declared in sing song. "She still has the largest chest-plate I've ever seen on a femme!"

Soundwave shook his head at that and opened his tape deck. "Rumble, return."

"Aw, come on! I'm just stating the obvious here!"

"Rumble, return," Soundwave repeated, stressing every word as a warning that disobedience wouldn't be tolerated.

Rumble kicked an invisible stone in a pouting manner; nevertheless he obeyed. He transformed and jumped inside Soundwave's chest without a word, and Frenzy walked up to the spy's side resembling a sparkling that had been reprimanded. Nodding as if approving of Frenzy's wise decision, Soundwave turned on his heel and headed for the exit.

"Hey, where are you going, Soundwave?" Skywarp asked.

"I am retiring," the spy said. "Suggestion: do the same."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Thundercracker said, standing up. "Flying aimlessly over the base beats watching these clowns every time."

Something similar must have crossed the other Decepticons' minds, for everyone started exiting the room as well. However, Skywarp gestured discreetly at Ramjet to stay put. Ramjet seemed hesitant at first but, in the end, he decided to see what Skywarp wanted. Curiosity is a powerful thing, after all.

"What?" he asked, instinctively keeping his voice low.

Skywarp grinned mischievously. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Frankly, no."

The purple Seeker heaved a melodramatic sigh and pointed at the screen, where Bluestreak could still be seen talking to the human.

"We finally have a femme! We can go through with our plan!"

Realisation didn't dawn on Ramjet, at the first few seconds, at least. But then, his optics widened and he stared at Skywarp incredulously.

"You mean…? You want to…?"

Skywarp nodded enthusiastically.

"But… But that glitch isn't really a femme!" Ramjet exclaimed.

"Shh!" Skywarp said, placing a hand over the other Seeker's mouth to silence him. "As for being a real femme," he continued in a quiet tone, "She has a pair of full silver lips and fine azure optics that say differently."

"Oh, man, you're serious," Ramjet said. If he had any doubts about Skywarp finally going crazy, they vanished into thin air.

"Don't act all boy-scout on me now, Ramjet! We've already talked about it over and over. Are you telling me that you want to back out now that this opportunity of a lifetime appeared?"

Ramjet opened his lips to say something, but no words came out as he pondered on Skywarp's argument.

Skywarp smiled triumphantly. "My point exactly. So how about it? Are you in or are you out?"

Ramjet twitched nervously. "You really think it will work?"

"Trust me!" Skywarp said. "All we have to do is capture her first and the rest is plain cruising!"

"Uh… yeah," Ramjet said thoughtfully. "Except you've forgotten one thing."

"What's that?"

"We don't know anything about her usual haunts and habits. How can we kidnap her when we don't even know where to make the ambush?" Ramjet asked.

Skywarp's grin broadened. "Rumble will help out."

"He will?" the white seeker asked.

"Definitely. He wants this as badly as we do." With that, Skywarp leaned closer, scarcely hiding his excitement. "Well? In or out?"

This time, Ramjet didn't hesitate.

"In."

TBC...


	8. Evil Plan Accomplished

Smokescreen walked in a cheery manner, taking his time as he headed towards the exit of the Ark. He had some time to spare before meeting with Bluestreak, his partner for the day, after all. More importantly, it was a good opportunity to record the psychological profile of the Autobots from the moment that Bluestreak became a femme up to now. He had gathered a lot of data in these past couple of weeks or so, and the former gambler highly doubted that he would have that kind of chance again. Perceptor and Jazz had contacted Prime that they were returning to Earth, and they figured they would be back in ten days' time at the latest. When that happened, Bluestreak would finally get his old face back.

That was why Smokescreen himself had asked Prowl to place him with the gunner today. He wanted to have a word with her and so get a glimpse on how much her appearance influenced her personality. For Smokescreen had noticed that Bluestreak had become more wary of certain mechs (she never took her eyes off Cliffjumper, for example), and far more affectionate with others (Prowl first came to mind). She had even managed to form a bond of understanding with Carly, something that the human girl welcomed quite happily. The rest of the Autobots could see them together almost every day, talking and sometimes even gigglinguncontrollably - especially whenever there was a third party in the same room with them. Bluestreak used to do that with the Twins, but not anymore. Her relationship with them had become strained as of late, and Smokescreen suspected why. It went with being the appointed consultant within the Ark.

The bright sunlight hit his optics, cutting Smokescreen off his musings as he stepped out of the Ark. Bluestreak was already outside, sitting on a rock nearby and waiting for the blue Datsun to show up. To his surprise, though, Smokescreen noticed that the gunner was quite tense. She kept checking her surroundings, her doors held up quite nervously.

"Is something wrong, Bluestreak?" Smokescreen asked.

Bluestreak snapped her head around, startled, only to relax when she realised who it was. "Primus, you scared me, Smokescreen!"

"The way you are now, you would have jumped at the drop of a pin," Smokescreen pointed out in a brief tease, only to sober again. "What's troubling you?"

Bluestreak pursed her lips momentarily. "I'm… I'm not sure. It's probably nothing, really. Just me getting restless, I guess. You know how antsy I get at times. Don't worry about it."

_You are such a bad liar, kiddo,_ Smokescreen thought with a mental shake of his head. "As an officer, I'd rather be the judge of that myself. Now tell me."

Bluestreak must have realised that her best option was to confide in Smokescreen, for she let out a sigh of resignation.

"Okay, fine. I feel like I'm being watched," she said, wringing her hands.

Smokescreen tilted his head. "Watched?" he echoed, trying not to sound too sceptical about it.

"I know, that's Red's usual line," she said. "But it's strange. I keep getting this creepy sensation that someone keeps following me around."

"Since when did you have that feeling?" Smokescreen asked curiously.

"Just this past week," Bluestreak answered, "I thought it was Mirage at first, trying to mess with my head but… it's not like him to do that."

"True," Smokescreen admitted and rubbed his chin in thought. He wasn't sure why Bluestreak was so tense, but he knew that he had to get her mind off those troubling thoughts. "Well, we'll be together on patrol today. If someone _is _messing with you, we'll probably find out together. Okay?"

"Okay," Bluestreak said. "But I really don't want to be any trouble."

"No trouble at all," Smokescreen replied in a reassuring tone, and he transformed to his car mode. "So… ready to go?"

Bluestreak nodded and transformed as well, following the blue Datsun obediently. But neither of them noticed the small mech who was watching them from a safe distance, a gleeful expression in his features.

* * *

"Finally!" Rumble exclaimed. He instantly activated his radio-transmitter and opened his communication frequencies. "Rumble to Skywarp! Rumble to Skywarp! Do you read?"

Skywarp cleared his vocaliser in obvious disapproval. Sighing, Rumble tried again.

"Little Big Man to Top Gun. Do you read?"

"Loud and clear, Little Big Man," Skywarp answered happily. "Report."

"She's heading your way. ETA 30 Earth minutes."

"Great!" Skywarp said. "Get over here. As soon as she appears, we can begin with Phase Two. Top Gun out."

"Gotcha! Little Big Man out," Rumble said, ending the transmission, and then he took off before any of the security cameras of the Ark spotted him.

* * *

"Well? Do you feel you're being watched now?" Smokescreen asked, still at the silver Datsun's side. They had been driving for quite some time now and the former gambler noticed that Bluestreak was more relaxed.

If Bluestreak were able to in her current mode, she would have shaken her head. "No," she replied, audibly relieved. "I guess I just needed to get out of the Ark for a while."

"Perhaps," Smokescreen said. "Primus knows things can be frustrating there on occasion."

"Yeah, more so for some than others," she muttered under her breath.

Though Smokescreen overheard her, he didn't hold the words against her. "I suppose it isn't easy being the only femme in an all-mech base. But I'm sure everyone tries to make you feel comfortable."

"Most of them."

Smokescreen acted surprised. "Not all of them?"

Bluestreak said nothing, so Smokescreen decided to give the gunner another subtle nudge.

"You're talking about Cliffjumper, aren't you?" he said. "His jokes can be crude, but his spark is in the right place."

"I know," Bluestreak said. "I don't have a problem with him."

"I see."

There was silence for some moments, but Smokescreen wasn't troubled. He knew that his patience would be rewarded sooner or later. Sure enough, Bluestreak drove closer to Smokescreen as if to talk to him in a confidential manner.

"Hey, uh… Smokescreen?"

Smokescreen couldn't help but smile inwardly. "Yes?"

"You… You talk to Sunstreaker, don't you?"

_Here we go_, Smokescreen thought. "On occasion."

"So what kind of stuff do you talk about?"

"Other than his latest wax job? Not much else," Smokescreen answered with a soft chuckle. There _was _more, of course, but he had never betrayed anyone's trust so far; he wasn't about to start now.

"Oh."

Smokescreen directed his sensors to Bluestreak. "Sorry to disappoint. What did you want to know?"

"Well…" Bluestreak hesitated for a moment. "We had this big fight and we haven't talked since then. I just… wondered."

She didn't have to say anything else; Smokescreen understood perfectly. "If you're wondering, there's a way to find out what you want."

"Really? What's that?" Bluestreak asked.

"Talk to him yourself."

She groaned. "That's not the kind of advice I was hoping for."

"It's still the best one," Smokescreen said.

"But I've already tried it and it didn't work!" Bluestreak said glumly.

"I never said it would be easy. Unlike in your case, words aren't exactly Sunstreaker's strongest point," the former gambler said, and he would have winked if he could.

"Yeah," Bluestreak admitted. "It makes you wonder how he managed to date all those femmes he constantly talks about, come to think of it."

"Oh, let's just say that his actions speak louder than his words," Smokescreen said. "Especially some _certain _actions of his," he added meaningfully.

Bluestreak's engine made a sputtering sound. "I did _not _need to know that!" she exclaimed in sheer mortification.

"Sorry," Smokescreen said, although his tone was enough as indication that he wasn't sorry in the least.

His mirth quickly vanished into thin air, though; for his sensors picked up some energy readings he didn't like at all. _Enemy_ energy readings.

"Bluestreak…"

"I sensed them too," he said. Indeed, she had already put on the breaks, and her engine revved as tension coursed through her. "Where do you think they are?"

"Judging by the speed they're approaching us, they're probably up in the air," Smokescreen said. "Transform and get ready. We might have to fight."

"Okay!" Bluestreak said, complying at once. In a matter of seconds, she was back to her robot mode, a gun in her hands. Smokescreen transformed as well and beckoned her to follow him to a rock formation nearby. If the Decepticons attacked, it would be best if the two of them had some kind of defence.

"Stay low," Smokescreen instructed. "We don't need to draw their attention."

"Too late for that, Autobuffoon!" Skywarp said, materialising behind them.

Cursing, Smokescreen snapped around in the hopes of hitting Skywarp, but the purple Seeker was too quick; he fired the blue Datsun on the chest.

"Smokescreen!"

Smokescreen tried to answer, but his systems failed one after another. His legs buckled underneath him and he felt himself falling, aware that there was nothing he could do to stop it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he felt Bluestreak's arms wrapping around him to stop his fall. He opened his mouth, wanting to tell her to forget about him, to run away as fast as possible… but then the world swirled into the blackness of unconsciousness and he knew nothing more.

* * *

Bluestreak stopped Smokescreen's fall, but she didn't have the luxury to check the blue Datsun's damages; she had to deal with Skywarp first. She fired at him, but the purple Seeker simply teleported again and materialised at her side, grabbing her by the wrist.

"You really don't need that, doll," he declared, twisting her hand to force her to drop the gun.

"Let go of me!" Bluestreak cried. She tried to pull herself free from Skywarp's grasp; but, when that didn't work, she just kicked the Seeker on the shin and then hurried at Smokescreen's side. Holding the unconscious form close, she activated the rocket launchers on her shoulders.

"You want a piece of this? If not, back off!" she said, glaring at her adversary.  
Skywarp raised an optic ridge and held his palms upwards in a gesture of peace. "Hey, come now, doll. Let's not be hasty here."

"You're right, let's not," she growled. "Step away and no one else has to get hurt."

"You don't get it, doll," Skywarp said. "I'd rather _you _stayed in one piece."

The tremors on the ground were Bluestreak's only warning. Before she could react, the ground beneath Bluestreak's feet tore in two, and she found herself falling into the chasm along with Smokescreen. A purple hand caught her, but she couldn't hold onto Smokescreen; he slipped from her grasp.

"SMOKESCREEN!" Bluestreak screamed, her optics widened in horror as she watched Smokescreen vanishing into the dark depths of the chasm.

"I suggest you forget about him, doll," Skywarp said, lifting her to safety. "Now… do I get a kiss for saving you?"

She rewarded him with a well-weighed punch on his face instead. Skywarp cried out in pain and held his jaw protectively, and Bluestreak found her chance. She sped off in her alternate mode on top speed.

"Bluestreak to the Ark! Come in, Ark! We're in trouble, please send help!"

Her distress signal was cut short, however. Ramjet landed in front of her and grabbed her as if she were a mere toy. Dismayed, Bluestreak transformed and started struggling against him, ready to activate her rocket launchers, but she never got the chance. A sharp blow landed on her head, knocking her out cold.

* * *

"Blast it," Ramjet muttered, holding the unconscious Bluestreak in his arms. "I thought you said it was going to be easy!" he said, glaring at Skywarp.

"Fine, so she fought back! I didn't expected it, you know" Skywarp said defensively. "They usually stand there and scream till somebody comes to save them!"

"Sure they do," Ramjet replied with a huff. "They also probably weigh a lot less than _her._ Help me out here, will you?"

Skywarp groaned, nevertheless he grabbed Bluestreak's legs to share the load.

"All right, we've done it!" Rumble said, approaching the Seekers with a big grin on his face. "So what do we do with that one?"

Ramjet and Skywarp looked in the direction the cassetticon pointed – the chasm where Smokescreen was.

"Leave him there; the other Autobots could be here at any moment," Skywarp said. "Now come on, let's take off!"

"Uh… Skywarp?" Ramjet said.

"What?"

"How are we going to do that?"

Skywarp blinked, realisation catching up with him. Neither he nor Ramjet could transform and fly away, because they needed their hands to carry Bluestreak. Even if they stayed in robot mode, carrying an unconscious Autobot while flying wasn't the easiest thing in the world. It would still take both jets to do that and coordination wasn't exactly their forte. They _did _want her to stay in one piece…

"Don't tell me you didn't think of an escape plan!" Rumble said incredulously.

The purple Seeker said nothing. He just smiled embarrassedly, a sheepish expression on his features.

Ramjet and Rumble let out a simultaneous noise of exasperation.

"Pipe down, both of you! I've already thought of a solution!" Skywarp said indignantly.

"And that is?" Ramjet asked with a sceptical look in his optics.

Skywarp straightened the wings behind his back. "Well… We run."

Ramjet and Rumble had to agree that that was the silliest solution ever – and also the only one that could work. So, a few seconds later, all three Decepticons carried Bluestreak away like some sort of trophy, running as fast as their legs could carry them.

TBC…


	9. A Rescue Of Sorts

"Red, are you quite sure that this is the place?" Hoist asked, directing his sensors every which way. Hound and Beachcomber were driving beside him, also trying to find any sign of Bluestreak and Smokescreen, but the desert-like terrain they were traversing seemed empty of life.

"I'm positive," Red Alert answered via the radio-transmitter. "The last transmission came from the coordinates I gave you."

"How odd. I don't detect any energy signatures within the area…"

"Hey, Hoist! Over here!" Beachcomber said, transforming to his robot mode.

"Hold on, Red," Hoist said and he put the security chief on hold. Once transformed, he walked up to the minibot, regarding him curiously. "What is it?"

"That chasm wasn't here till yesterday, man," Beachcomber said, pointing at the large gap on the ground before them.

"Oh, dear. Do you think Rumble might have anything to do with it?"

"It's probable," Beachcomber answered with a shrug.

"Not just probable," Hound said then, stepping close to the chasm. "I'm picking up an Autobot energy signature. It's faint, but it's there."

"_One _energy signature?" Hoist asked worriedly.

"Yeah," Hound answered.

"Right." Hoist transformed back to his vehicle mode and drew out his pincers. "One Autobot coming up."

Using his sensors to guide him, Hoist reached down the chasm and, a few minutes later, his pincers clanked lightly - a sign that they had come across something metallic. Relieved, Hoist clasped the pincers around the Autobot and took him out of the chasm to place him on safe ground.

Beachcomber winced visibly as he saw Smokescreen's chest wound. "That doesn't look good."

"Smokescreen? Can you hear me?" Hound said, shaking the offline form gently.

"I doubt he will respond," Hoist said, still in his vehicle mode. "My sensors tell me he's on the verge of a stasis lock."

"But we need to find out what happened to Bluestreak!" Hound said. "She can't have just disappeared!"

"I am quite aware of that," Hoist said. "But Smokescreen also needs immediate repairs which I can't do – this wound is too deep. We have to get him back to the Ark and Ratchet."

Hound and Beachcomber understood. As soon as they loaded Smokescreen securely on Hoist, they followed the truck back to Headquarters, all the while hoping that Bluestreak was safe… wherever she was.

* * *

Though Prowl was in his office, he hardly did any work. He simply kept staring at the datapad in front of him, tapping his stylus absentmindedly on the desk. It was true that the tactician didn't usually let his thoughts run away with him while working but, this time, focusing was a nigh impossible task.

There was no doubt in Prowl's mind that the Decepticons were behind this attack. But the thing that truly puzzled him was Bluestreak's disappearance. Logic dictated that the young one was taken captive, yet why? Bluestreak was of no use to the Decepticons information-wise, unlike Smokescreen. So what made the difference now?

"Prowl, do you read?"

Grateful for the distraction, Prowl activated his transmitter. "Prowl here. What is it, Ratchet?"

"Smokescreen is online. You can talk to him if you want."

"I see. I'll be right there."

With that, Prowl walked out of the office and headed straight for the medbay. When he pressed the call button, Ratchet opened the door and ushered the tactician inside.

"His chest suffered a lot of damages and he lost a lot of fluid, but he's out of danger now, thankfully," the medic said, debriefing Prowl on Smokescreen's condition. "Nevertheless, you shouldn't tire him out."

"Understood," Prowl said, and he walked up at the former gambler's side. "Smokescreen?"

Smokescreen onlined his optics slowly, and his gaze locked on Prowl. "You're here," he whispered.

"I am," Prowl said with a nod. "You should thank Hound, Beachcomber and Hoist at the first chance. They're the ones who found you and brought you back here."

"And Bluestreak?"

Prowl sighed. "Actually, I was hoping you'd tell _me._"

"She's been captured then," Smokescreen noted, guilt crossing his features. "I'm sorry. I tried to protect her."

"I know you did," Prowl said in a kind tone. "Do you know who attacked you?"

Smokescreen shut his optics for a moment as he replayed the events in his mind's eye. "There were three energy readings. But I only managed to see Skywarp before he shot me."

"I see," Prowl said softly. He stood up, and he patted the former gambler on the shoulder. "Thank you, Smokescreen."

The tactician headed for the exit, believing that his work was done; however, Smokescreen voice stopped him.

"Prowl, there's something else."

Prowl faced the blue Datsun, intrigued. "Tell me."

"Bluestreak said that she'd been watched this past week. I didn't really believe her at first but now… I don't think that was a random attack."

The tactician considered Smokescreen's words for a few moments. "No, it doesn't sound like one anymore," he finally agreed, and a small smile appeared on his lips. "Thank you, Smokescreen. This will be useful."

Smokescreen closed his optics, obviously relieved to hear that. Prowl didn't stay in the room, though. Now that there was finally some progress, he had a lot of work to do.

----------------

Bluestreak came around with a wince, her cranial unit practically killing her, and the first thing that she saw as her optics came online was the dim light that the energon bars cast into the cell she was in. Alarmed, she tried to spring back on her feet, but she only ended up back on the floor with a yelp, as if an invisible force pulled her back down.

Except… it was no invisible force. She held up both her hands, and she was dismayed to see that her wrists were cuffed to a chain on the wall.

"Swell," she huffed. Still, she attempted to get up once more, careful not to make any sudden movements. Though she finally stood up, the chain was so short that she could barely take a step. Not that she could really go anywhere, admittedly. She couldn't blast her way out nor contact the Ark; a quick diagnostics scan revealed that both her rocket launchers and her transmitter were torn apart. In other words, she was stuck as a prisoner and there was nothing she could do about it.

Speaking of which, where was she exactly? This place didn't look like the Nemesis; it didn't resemble the interior of a spaceship anyway. So, logically, she was probably in one of the temporary Decepticon bases that she remembered Prowl talking about. The tactician had been trying to locate at least one of them for months on end, but without luck.

Blast it.

"Enjoying your stay?"

Bluestreak faced Rumble, who was standing outside the cell with a very pleased look on his features.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, glaring at the cassetticon.

"Checking on you," Rumble replied cheekily. "We wouldn't want you to think we're bad hosts or anything."

"Too late for that, sorry," Bluestreak retorted. "Now will you let me go?"

"That soon? I don't think so, doll," Skywarp said then, appearing beside Rumble. "You still haven't served your purpose yet."

Bluestreak tensed as she got a bad feeling about that. "And what would my purpose be?"

Skywarp didn't bother with an answer. He activated his communication frequencies instead. "Hey, Ramjet…"

"Wait!" Rumble grabbed Skywarp by the arm and forced the radio-transmitter off.

"What was that for?" Skywarp demanded.

"Do you really want Soundwave to intercept that message? Nobody is supposed to know she's here, remember?"

Skywarp considered that for a few moments, and then nodded. "Good point. You go and fetch him."

"What about you?" Rumble asked, red visor flaring as he regarded the purple Seeker suspiciously.

"I'll just start without you," Skywarp answered, and he teleported inside the cell with a big grin on his lip components.

"Well, doll… it's just you and me now," he said. "I suggest you don't fight back. It will be over more quickly this way."

Bluestreak cringed.

* * *

"Are you sure about this, Prowl?" Optimus asked, regarding the tactician curiously. Both Autobots were in the control room, discussing the matter of Bluestreak's kidnapping in a confidential tone.

"Affirmative," Prowl answered. "Whoever was behind this attack, he had targeted Bluestreak from the start."

"But why would Megatron want Bluestreak?" the Autobot leader mused, rubbing his chin in thought. "That doesn't sound like him."

"I agree," Prowl said with a nod. "Megatron is far too ambitious to concern himself with what he would believe were trivialities. His subordinates, on the other hand…"

"Ah," Optimus's optics reflected the knowing smile that had formed underneath his battle-mask. Directing his gaze on the control panels, he pressed one of the buttons and opened all communication frequencies. "I think it's high time we made a call."

"Yes, Sir," Prowl said, understanding perfectly.

* * *

When Megatron sat that day in the control room of the Nemesis to prepare his new plans for conquering the universe, he hadn't expected to hear the characteristic sound of an incoming message. As far as he knew, Shockwave had everything under control back on Cybertron, and he had ordered Soundwave and the others to remain on standby in their temporary base. So what was the problem?

The signal went off again, and Megatron decided that he should determine the meaning of such a rude interruption. Keeping his jaw tight, he examined the nature of the signal; he had to know who was about to get an audio-full, after all.

_An Autobot frequency?_ Now that was strange. Raising an optic ridge in curiosity, he put the caller on screen.

"Prime," Megatron said as soon as he saw the Autobot leader. "To what do I owe this… pleasure?"

"Your subordinates," Optimus replied, straight to the point. "It seems you have trouble keeping them in line, Megatron."

Megatron frowned and leaned closer to the screen. "And what gave you that absurd idea?" he asked, practically growling the words. If there was one thing the Decepticon leader absolutely loathed was to have his leadership skills doubted.

"Three Decepticons who kidnapped one of my soldiers," Optimus answered. "Unless, of course, that was your evil-plan-of-the-week all along."

Megatron tapped his fingers on the surface of the computer, contemplating Optimus's words carefully. The Autobot leader didn't sound like he was lying; he was too good and honourable for that (Megatron actually felt a little sick for a brief moment there). But, then again, all was fair in war…

"Let's just say for argument's sake that I believe you, Prime," he finally said. "Which Autobot was it?"

"The gunner. Bluestreak."

Megatron chocked back a guffaw. "Don't be ridiculous, Prime. I have no need of that weakling, and neither do the rest of the Decepticons!" What the Decepticon leader left unsaid was that Bluestreak was also under the 'Leave him be' list. The last time that they had captured the gunner, that fool had talked his captors' audios off to such an extent that the Decepticons had no choice but to return him without so much as a scratch on him.

"There are witnesses, Megatron," Optimus insisted. "The identity of one of the Decepticons has been confirmed."

"And who is it?" Megatron asked, feeling quite amused. None of his subordinates would be idiots enough to…

"Skywarp."

… Fine. There _was _one.

"Hold that frequency open, Prime," Megatron said, and he activated the radio-transmitter in his forearm. "Soundwave, do you read?"

"Yes, Megatron," Soundwave answered from the other side of the link. "What are your orders?"

"Locate Skywarp at once and tell me where he is."

"As you command," the spy answered. There was a small pause, during which Megatron was sure Soundwave was scanning the Decepticon base. Tapping his foot in an impatient manner, the Decepticon leader waited till he finally heard an answer.

"Skywarp: Located. He's in the brig."

"Really?" Megatron said. "Very well, Soundwave. Wait for my new orders in a few moments."

"Understood," Soundwave said, ending the transmission temporarily. Meanwhile, Megatron returned his attention to the other conversation at hand.

"Are you still there, Prime?" the Decepticon leader asked.

"Still waiting, Megatron," Optimus answered.

"Good. Your precious gunner is held in one of our temporary bases quite close to Portland. I'm sending you the coordinates as we speak. Oh, don't give me _that _look, Prime," he added, noticing the dubious expression on the Autobot leader's face; after battling him for so many millennia, Megatron knew him like the back of his hand. "I'm only doing this because I don't tolerate disobedience."

"I understand," Optimus said, nodding.

"I'm glad you do. Now… In an Earth hour, the Decepticon base will be vacant. It will be your best chance to attack and retrieve the Autodolt. I suggest you take it. Megatron out."

With that, Megatron ended the transmission. As soon as Optimus's face vanished from the screen, he reactivated the communication frequencies and contacted Soundwave.

"Soundwave, is Skywarp still in the brig?"

"Yes, Megatron," the spy replied. "Observation: Ramjet and Rumble have also joined him there."

"Have they now?" Megatron said, curling his upper lip component in distaste. "Here are your new orders, Soundwave. All the Decepticons are to leave the base within the next Earth hour _but_… make sure those three don't notice a thing. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Megatron," Soundwave said.

"Excellent, see to your orders at once," the Decepticon leader said. "And one more thing. Have Laserbeak monitor the base from a safe distance. Something tells me we will have quite the entertainment soon."

"Yes, Megatron," Soundwave said, and he cut off the communication frequencies.

Megatron grinned cruelly and rubbed his hands. This day promised to be very gratifying, even if it didn't involve conquering the universe.

* * *

Mirage still looked around the Decepticon structure, hiding in his invisibility cloak. He didn't want to be detected by the enemy, although he had to admit that the place looked particularly quiet. Somewhere in the back of his mind he argued to himself that it was perhaps _too _quiet but, so far, nothing gave the impression that he was currently walking into a well-staged trap. Maybe if he had time to investigate the base further, he would have found something, but Prowl's instructions had been specific: scout ahead, check things, then get back in five minutes. So, Mirage transformed to his vehicle mode and drove off to a large rock formation less than a mile away from the Decepticon base.

"Well?" Prowl asked as soon as the Autobot spy got out of his invisibility cloak and transformed.

"No Decepticons in sight," Mirage replied. "In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd say the base is abandoned."

"Nevertheless, we shouldn't take any chances," the tactician said, and he directed his gaze to the rest of the Autobots, who were standing a little further away. With a brief wave of his hand, he beckoned everyone to gather round so he could address all of them at once.

"Right. So what's the plan?" Sideswipe asked, regarding Prowl curiously.

"The plan is as simple as they come," Prowl said, trying not to mind Sunstreaker; the yellow Lamborghini kept fidgeting next to his brother. "Mirage, Trailbreaker and I will provide you two with cover so you can infiltrate the base without being noticed." He pointed at a couple of air ducts on the left side of the building. "These will be your entrances; they should guide you safely inside. Once you're in, you have to contact me so we can pull back and give the impression we're retreating. That way--"

"This is taking too long," Sunstreaker declared and took out of subspace his gun. Before anyone could stop him, the yellow warrior had let out a great battle cry and charged forward. And if that weren't enough, Sideswipe hurried after his brother, shouting at Sunstreaker to wait for him.

Prowl stared at the scene that unfolded before him, blinked, then looked at Mirage and Trailbreaker. They just looked back at him expectantly.

Well, as much as his processor protested against _that _idea, he had to accept that he was also out of alternative options. So…

"Change of plans," he said, and he charged as well, wielding his rifle in a threatening manner. To his relief, nothing bad came out of that absurd strategy, and he even managed to reach the main entrance of the base without crossing enemy fire. Even so, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had gone out of sight; they were obviously even further ahead.

"Sideswipe! Sunstreaker!" he cried, but he didn't get any response. Huffing in indignation, the tactician signalled to Mirage and Trailbreaker to follow him, staying alert at all times.

Now, which way should they go?

Prowl got his answer when he suddenly heard shouts of dismay and the unmistakable sounds of a scuffle taking place. It didn't take a great mind to guess what was happening, so Prowl, Mirage and Trailbreaker hurried to the left to offer the twins their help.

As it turned out, it was hardly necessary. By the time the three Autobots finally found Sideswipe, the red warrior was standing over the offline forms of Rumble and Ramjet, a big grin on his youthful features.

"Heh… took you guys long enough," he declared cheekily.

"Don't look pleased; you've still disobeyed orders," Prowl pointed out. "Where's Sunstreaker?"

"He went ahead to the brig, where Bluestreak is. They were kind enough to tell us so before Sunstreaker put them to sleep," Sideswipe replied, pointing at the unconscious Decepticons. "You might catch up with him if you're quick enough."

Prowl nodded his understanding, and he faced Mirage and Trailbreaker. "Stay with Sideswipe. We'll meet you back here."

"Okay," Trailbreaker said, but Prowl had already run down the corridor Sideswipe had shown him. His footsteps echoed hollowly, filling the silence that surrounded him, and a part of him couldn't help but find this unsettling. Surely the Decepticons should have counter-attacked by now. Why did they find only two Decepticons in the entire base? True, Megatron had said that the base would be vacant but… he wasn't the leader of the Decepticons for nothing.

Prowl's musings were instantly cut off, for he came across another Decepticon: Skywarp. There was no need for alarm though; the Seeker was sprawled on the floor, his optics dimmed, obviously unconscious. Apparently, he was unlucky enough to get in Sunstreaker's way and, considering what the yellow warrior was capable of, Prowl was surprised that the Seeker was still alive.

Prowl was even moresurprised, however, when he saw Sunstreaker burst out of room a couple of feet away and run as if Unicron himself was after him. And was that fluid gushing from his nose?

Curiosity overwhelming him, Prowl decided to check the room. If Bluestreak was in there and Sunstreaker had to run off like that, the tactician didn't dare think…

Everything came to a screeching halt. Bluestreak was indeed in the room and, more importantly, unharmed. At least… as unharmed as a femme dressed in a leather outfit which barely concealed her chestplate or hips while a veil cascaded down her… thighs… was…

_Wh… what?!_

"Um… Hey, Prowl," she said, blushing profusely. "Can you get me out of these? Apparently, Skywarp and Ramjet have a thing for Star Wars and they wanted to see how a femme would look in a Princess Leia outfit. I must look hideous, because Sunstreaker just gasped and… Prowl? You okay?"

But Prowl barely registered what Bluestreak said. His computer had already crashed, and all that was left for him to do was collapse on the floor very much like a stiff board.

TBC…


	10. Reconciliation

The first thing that Prowl registered as he regained consciousness was the sound of footsteps. Confused, he willed his optics online so he could check his surroundings, even if it proved an almost impossible task; his cranial unit was practically killing him. A groan slipped out of his lip components before he could help it.

"Primus…"

In the next moment, a hand rested on his shoulder and Ratchet's face came into view.

"Well, well. You finally decided to join the functioning again," the medic said, holding up a small scanning device. "Name?"

Prowl sighed. He understood what Ratchet was trying to determine with that kind of routine check-up. "Autobot Prowl. Tactician. Hailing from Praxus," he said.

Ratchet hummed his acknowledgement and held up two fingers. "How many?"

Prowl answered.

"Push my hands," Ratchet instructed, gripping Prowl's arms.

Prowl did just that, and he did the same thing when Ratchet gripped his legs.

Ratchet nodded, seeming satisfied. "Good. Sit up, but not too abruptly."

Prowl complied, following the medic's advice. "My computer crashed, didn't it?" he asked.

"Yup," Ratchet said, writing in one of his datapads.

The tactician sighed. "How long was I out of it?"

"Let's just say you've established a new record," Ratchet deadpanned, something that made the tactician wince. "How are you feeling, by the way?"

"Fine, I suppose," Prowl said truthfully, "Although the last thing I remembered was going on a rescue mission…" His door panels practically stood behind his back as his memories finally caught up with him, and he regarded the medic in a worried manner. "Was the mission successful? Is Bluestreak safe?"

"Yeah, don't worry," Ratchet said. "And finally out of that ridiculous outfit, too," he muttered under his breath.

"Come again?" Prowl asked, confused. What outfit?

"Nothing, nothing," Ratchet said quickly, still writing on his datapad. "Well, all your functions seem to be operating smoothly. Nevertheless, I think it's in your best interest that you stayed out of your office for the next 24 hours." He signed the datapad in one fluid motion and he handed it to Prowl with quite the professional air. "Show this to Prime once you're out of here."

Prowl frowned. "What about the reports from the mission?"

"Prime has already taken care of that," Ratchet answered. "And Ironhide has taken care of the other matter."

Now Prowl was downright baffled. "What other matter?"

------------------

"Hey, Bro, catch," Sideswipe said, handing the yellow Lamborghini a large box.

Sunstreaker did with a heavy sigh. "Where does this go?" he asked.

"I don't know," the red Lamborghini replied with an unconcerned shrug. "Just put it on the other side of the room, I guess."

"I don't think tidying up works that way, Sideswipe," Sunstreaker noted, shaking his head. Indeed, Ironhide had instructed them to clean up the mess inside the store-room of the Ark, but Sunstreaker felt that they'd done nothing more than move the boxes about aimlessly.

"Hey, it's not like Ironhide's around to correct us," Sideswipe said. "And I doubt _he's_ gonna try and say anything," he added, nodding discreetly in Fireflight's direction. The young Aerialbot was standing a little further away, supposedly making sure that the Twins did their job. So far, however, he merely made sure he didn't draw attention to himself. Both Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had made quite the impression on the youngest additions to the Autobot group, and Fireflight was particularly nervous around them.

"We're still stuck in here," Sunstreaker grumbled.

"Yeah… Whose fault was that, I wonder?" Sideswipe said, pretending to ponder on the matter for a few seconds. "Oh, right! Yours!"

"Nobody asked you to follow," the yellow Lamborghini said with a growl.

"So what? Was I supposed to leave you on your own? You're still my brother. Unfortunately."

"Don't push it!" Sunstreaker snapped.

"Tut, tut," the red Lamborghini said, waving a finger in warning. "No excitement, you'll have fluid gushing from your nose all over again. Or does that only happen when you see cute femmes dressed in Princess Leia outfits?"

Sunstreaker huffed. "You're never gonna let me live this down, are you?"

"Nope," Sideswipe replied sweetly. "By the way, I didn't take you for the knight -in-shining-armour type. Talk about dashing to your lady-love's rescue or what?"

Sunstreaker didn't share the humour. "Just forget it, all right? I've already told you, I'm not gonna do anything, and I'm certainly not gonna let _her _do anything either!" he said. "Bluestreak is--"

"-- talking to Fireflight," Sideswipe said, looking over his brother's shoulder.

"That's right, talking to… What?" Sunstreaker turned around in disbelief, only to see that Sideswipe was right. Bluestreak was indeed standing in the doorway, a pleading look on her features, while Fireflight was blushing so hard it was almost embarrassing. Deciding to check on matters himself, Sunstreaker leant closer in the hopes of overhearing their conversation. At this distance, he only managed to catch some words here and there.

"But Ironhide said…"

"Five minutes… I promise…"

"… I don't know…"

But then, Bluestreak held Fireflight's hand in both hers and looked at him with what Spike always described as a 'puppy look', and Sunstreaker knew that the Aerialbot was officially defeated. If that look worked like a charm when Bluestreak was a mech, it did wonders now that she was a femme.

Fireflight wavered, looked at the corridor to make sure that Ironhide wasn't anywhere within hearing range, and finally nodded.

She beamed at once, something that made Fireflight smile quite happily. Sunstreaker clenched his jaw, wanting nothing more now than stomp up there and punch that smile off his face. She had come to see _him and Sideswipe_. Didn't the idiot realise that?

_Uh oh…_ Seeing Bluestreak heading to his direction, Sunstreaker decided he had to act quickly - the last thing he wanted was for her to think that she was being spied on. He prodded Sideswipe to give him another box so that they could at least pretend that they were working and, willing himself to be as casual as possible, he avoided looking behind him until she finally spoke.

"Hey, guys."

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe looked up.

"Oh, hey, Bluestreak! Funny, didn't see you there. Have you been here long?" the red Lamborghini asked in an innocent tone.

Sunstreaker shot a warning look in his brother's direction. The plan was to act nonchalant, not like idiots!

Thankfully, Bluestreak didn't seem to think anything was off. "No, I just came in. I figured I should check up on you and let you know that Prowl is okay."

"Oh." Sunstreaker picked up another box. "Is that all?"

"Actually… I was hoping I could have a word with you," Bluestreak said, looking at the yellow Lamborghini.

"About?" Sunstreaker asked.

She wrung her hands in a nervous manner and looked at Sideswipe. Sideswipe frowned and looked at Sunstreaker, who simply waved his hand in a dismissive manner.

"It's fine," he said, reassuring Bluestreak. "You can trust Sideswipe not to talk."

That seemed to settle things for the femme, even though it was clear it was still hard for her. In the end she breathed in, bracing herself for what she was about to say, and decided to just go for it.

"Thank you."

To say Sunstreaker was confused would have been an understatement. "For what?"

"For coming for me," she explained. "I, uh… appreciate it."

_Blast it…_ Sunstreaker thought wryly. A grateful femme was the last thing he wanted right now. He snorted deliberately and turned around, supposedly getting back to his work.

"I was just following orders. Think nothing of it."

"I believe you're here because you _didn't_ follow orders."

The yellow Lamborghini stopped in his tracks, cursing inwardly. Even so, he said nothing, hoping that that would convince Bluestreak to leave the matter be.

No such luck.

"After the first time we… talked…" she said slowly, almost with difficulty, "I had come to believe that you didn't care about me. That I was some freak of nature that disgusted you."

The words cut through Sunstreaker like an energon blade, making his spark actually ache. All this time, he'd avoided Bluestreak in the belief that he was doing a favour to the femme, no, to _both _of them. Instead, he now realised that he had ended up hurting his friend a lot more than he had ever meant to. And though Sunstreaker wasn't a mech that apologised (he was too proud for that sort of thing), the guilt and regret that grabbed hold of him in that moment forced him to face Bluestreak, hoping to somehow make amends.

"Bluestreak, I…"

"Hey, it's okay," Bluestreak cut in, a smile on her lip components. "I get it now."

"You do?" Sunstreaker asked, astonished. How did she figure it out?

"Yeah," she said. "I mean… it _would _be weird if we hanged around as if nothing had changed between us. I _am_ a femme, after all. What with your history with them, I'd just keep thinking and worrying whether you were gonna make a pass at me." She chuckled. "Good thing Perceptor and Jazz will be back soon. Then we'll have one less thing to worry about. No way you're gonna flirt with a mech, right?"

"Uh… right," Sunstreaker managed to voice, despite the unnatural lump that had suddenly formed in his vocaliser.

A sigh of relief left Bluestreak's lips and she made a motion as if ridding some sweat off her helm. "Phew, I'm glad that's settled. Seriously, I didn't want my last words to you to be…" she cast another uncomfortable glance in Sideswipe's direction for a moment, "You know…"

"Yeah, I know," Sunstreaker said, but he didn't sound as cheerful as he would have liked. "And Sideswipe does, too, in case you were wondering."

"Oh!" Bluestreak laughed a bit, scratching her helm in embarrassment. "Sorry, Sideswipe."

"It's fine…" the red Lamborghini said quietly.

The silver femme nodded. But then, as the silence started growing heavy in the air, she found her confidence wavering.

"Well, um… I'm gonna go now. I have to check on Prowl and make sure that he doesn't attempt to do any work. That was one big computer crash he had and, frankly, I don't want it to happen again. Poor Prowl feels really lousy every time he comes back to his senses and I end up getting all worried and… okay, bye!"

With that, the gunner turned on her heel and practically flew out of the room, leaving the Twins and a very perplexed Fireflight behind.

"What did you do to her?" the Aerialbot asked, optics wide.

"None of your business," Sunstreaker snapped, and he let the box he had been holding this whole time drop on the pile next to him. "Sideswipe, give me another."

Sideswipe did, a sober expression on his features. "I'm sorry, Bro," he said sincerely.

Sunstreaker shrugged. "Heh, whatever for? I got what I wanted. Bluestreak didn't fall for me. Mission accomplished."

"Yeah, I guess so." Sideswipe pursed his lips momentarily. "Bro--"

"We have work to do," Sunstreaker declared stolidly. "Now are you gonna help me or am I gonna have to do everything on my own?"

That set things as final, and Sideswipe didn't say anything else. They simply carried on working, the red Lamborghini lost in thought and the yellow wondering if he had just made the biggest mistake in his life. That is, until…

'"No way you're gonna flirt with a mech… right?"'

"What?" Sunstreaker asked, looking at his brother dubiously.

"That's what Bluestreak said," Sideswipe said.

Sunstreaker sighed. "So? You figured you should rub it in some more?"

"No," Sideswipe said, and Sunstreaker noted that his brother sounded very pleased for some reason. "The wording was… interesting, that's all."

"Just let it go, Sideswipe," Sunstreaker said tiredly and he picked up another box. He didn't want to think anymore. As far as he was concerned, he had his chance and that was it. End of story.

* * *

Bluestreak stopped running only when she had finally exited the Ark and found herself within the comforting darkness of the night. Starlight filled the sky-dome above her head, a tranquil sight that contradicted severely with the turmoil that was raging in her spark. After all this time, she had got an answer to the question that had kept nagging her even as far back as her mech days. That was good, she should have been happy. She could now carry on without wondering about the what ifs, and she had saved herself from much embarrassment and doubt.

Then why did it hurt so much? She had prepared herself for any kind of outcome, even tried to somehow detach herself from the predicament she was in so she could view it objectively and logically. But, unfortunately, logic was never Bluestreak's strongest point, neither as a mech nor as a femme. She was always ruled by emotions and intuition, acting on them no matter how many times she told herself she shouldn't. Just like now, while fluid threatened to flow down her face-plate.

_Blast it…_ She angrily wiped her tears with the back of her hand and she sat on a rock nearby, hoping to ease the rapid pulsing within her laser core.

"Bluestreak?"

She sighed; she recognised that voice only too well. "Hey, Prowl," she said, but she didn't face her mentor. "Did you need something?"

It was of no use, though. She could never hide from him.

"I saw you running off," she heard him say. And then, next thing she knew, his arm was placed over her broad shoulders. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, I'm just…" she started, but she quickly realised that she was openly crying. "I'm just sick and tired of everything. This face, this _voice_… this whole Primus-damn situation!" She was aware that, as her frustration grew, so did the volume of her voice, but she couldn't bring herself to care anymore. "Why did that medic have to fix me?! Why didn't she just leave me lying half-burnt?!"

"You know why," Prowl said in an unusually tender tone, his fingers rubbing the cables in Bluestreak's neck in a soothing manner. "You were dying."

"At least I would have died a mech!"

"You would still be dead."

"I now wish I were anyway!"

Prowl cupped Bluestreak's face and prodded her to look at him. "Don't say that. Don't say that ever again," he said firmly.

"Why?" she asked, dejected. "Because I'm so important to the Autobot cause?"

"No. Because then I would have to share a room with Blaster."

Bluestreak froze, trying to take in what Prowl – the serious, never-made-a-joke-in-his-life Prowl – had said, and her lips started twitching back to a smile. "But… you like Blaster."

"I do. His music is a different matter entirely."

That did the trick. Laughter flowed out of her lip components.

"Oh, Prowl…" She wrapped her arms around Prowl's neck, hugging him tightly. "What would I do without you?"

"I'd prefer it if we didn't go there," Prowl said, actually returning the embrace for a brief moment before locking his gaze with Bluestreak's again. "Joke aside, I meant what I said. Don't ever think like that, Bluestreak, under any circumstances. Do we have a deal?"

"Yeah," Bluestreak said and wiped her optics. "Man, this _is _pathetic, isn't it? Me crying over…" she stopped midway and shook her head. "I must really be turning into a femme."

"No," Prowl replied kindly, "You just had a long day."

"I guess," Bluestreak admitted with a sigh.

Prowl smiled. "Are you ready to have some rest then?"

"Actually, can I ask for a favour?" Bluestreak blurted out, before even realising what she was doing.

"What is it?" the tactician asked, seeming surprised.

Bluestreak pursed her lips. It _was _a hard thing to ask of Prowl, of all Autobots. But she somehow knew that he wouldn't refuse either.

"Could you… hold me? Just for a little while?" she asked in a soft tone. "Please?"

Prowl didn't answer, not in words anyway. His arms simply closed around Bluestreak in a protective manner and he let her head rest against his shoulder. Grateful, Bluestreak made herself as small as possible in that embrace, practically burying herself in that kind of warmth she hadn't felt since her creator's death.

"Thank you," she murmured, shutting her optics.

Prowl simply caressed her helm in soothing response, offering his comfort in the only way he could.

TBC…


	11. The Last Night

Prowl onlined with a small sigh after a good night's rest and let his gaze drift sleepily – though an officer and a workaholic to a fault, he did enjoy the luxury of these brief moments of relaxation. The place was quiet, something that didn't really surprise the tactician in the least. And, if his suspicions were correct… He looked in the direction of Bluestreak's berth, only to see it empty. In fact, Prowl was quite positive that Bluestreak hadn't recharged at all. It _was _a big day, after all. Today, after a whole month of confusion, embarrassment and frustration, Bluestreak was going to get his old face back. Jazz had already reported that they were well on their way back to Earth, and they would arrive right about noon.

Prowl, of course, knew that that meant a lot of work waiting for him, but he didn't mind. He was quite cheerful, and his step was particularly light as he got out of the berth, grabbed the datapad that was on his nightstand and walked out, heading to his office. Though Prowl gave the impression that he was too focused on the datapad he was currently reading, he managed to find his way around the Ark without bumping into anything or anyone. It was a trait that was useful at moments like these.

Hmm… It looked like things within the Ark were particularly quiet these past few days. Though that was a welcome change, for sure, it also had the tactician rather concerned. He knew for a fact that several days of inertia would make several Autobots bored. Or rather, just one. So why hadn't Sideswipe pulled any of his infamous pranks yet?

Although, come to think of it, both Twins were quite subdued lately. According to the report, Sunstreaker didn't get involved in any fights with his fellow Autobots either. Perhaps he ought to talk with Smokescreen to see what's wrong with the yellow Lamborghini, just to find out if this particular mood was going to affect his battle performance. With that last thought, Prowl walked into his office and sat down, immersing himself in his work.

"Hey, Prowl," Smokescreen's voice sounded via the radio transmitter. "It's almost time."

Prowl blinked, and checked the time reading on the computer screen; it _was_ almost noon. _That_ was one thing he would never be able to do; keep track of time whilst working. He got up and went to the control room, where Smokescreen was already there on duty.

"Any news so far, Smokescreen?" was the first thing he asked as he walked in.

"Morning to you too, Prowl," Smokescreen said with a shake of his head. "And no, nothing as of yet. So relax."

"I am relaxed," Prowl said, frowning.

"No… _this _is relaxed," the blue Datsun said, pointing at himself. Indeed, the former gambler was sitting with his legs crossed and an arm resting on the back of the chair. "_You _look as if you're waiting for your beloved from overseas."

Prowl raised an optic ridge. "I want them to arrive safely. That's only natural, I believe."

"That, and you can't wait till Perceptor arrives so he can work on that derma plating," Smokescreen pointed out with a knowing smile.

Prowl stayed silent, refusing to answer that, no matter how true the statement was.

"It's a shame really," Smokescreen said. "It was nice having a femme around the base, if only for a short while."

"I think Bluestreak would disagree with you," Prowl said. "I had to relieve the young one from any duties till the operation is complete."

Smokescreen laughed. "She's getting hyper, isn't she?"

"That would be an understatement, to be honest," Prowl answered.

"Heh, now this I've got to see," the blue Datsun said. "Where is she?"

"Logically, I'd have to say in the common room," Prowl replied.

"Of course you would," Smokescreen said with a tease and he pressed a couple of buttons to switch from the main monitor to a view of the common room. Both Datsuns saw Bluestreak sitting on the couch, giving the impression that he was watching something on TV. However, it was obvious that Bluestreak's mind was anywhere but on the show. She kept drumming her fingers on the arms of the couch, while her crossed legs twitched in an impatient manner.

Smokescreen couldn't help but laugh. "If she's like that now, I daren't think how she'll be when she hears--"

The former gambler didn't get the chance to finish his sentence, for it was in that very moment that the sound of Omega Supreme's engines reverberated throughout the entire base. Smokescreen and Prowl exchanged a glance, aware what that meant, and the tactician proceeded to activate his communication frequencies. That is, until he looked back at the monitor and saw that Bluestreak was already gone.

"You'd better catch up with her," Smokescreen pointed out, amused.

Prowl nodded his understanding. After subspacing the datapad, he exited the control room and hurried to the entrance of the Ark. Jazz would be in quite a shock if they suddenly saw Bluestreak's appearance, so he had to be there to explain matters – fast.

Too late. Bluestreak was already running towards Jazz and Perceptor as they came out of Omega Supreme.

"PERCEPTOR!"

Prowl winced inwardly at the happy – and high-pitched – scream. In the next moment, his protégé clung to the scientist like some sort of mecha-leech in an embrace that humans described as a 'glomp'.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you!"

Perceptor, much to his credit, managed to hold Bluestreak securely, staring at her with wide open optics. "Um… actually… I do believe I've got the gist of it."

"Wow, Bluestreak, I know we're Transformers, but that's takin' it one step beyond," Jazz commented, blinking at the sight of the young gunner before he faced the approaching Prowl. "So… what did we miss?"

"It's a long story," Prowl answered with a weary sigh. "I'll tell you all about it on our way to the medbay."

"Yes, it sounds like the best option," Perceptor said. "Which means you can let go of me now, Bluestreak."

"Oh, right, sorry," Bluestreak said, and she planted her feet on the ground with a sheepish chuckle. "Just promise me you won't leave again for the next few vorns, okay?"

Perceptor scratched his helm. "I'll try…"

* * *

"It can be done."

Those were the magic words Bluestreak had wanted to hear all along, and it was a miracle how she hadn't kissed Perceptor right there, in the medbay. Ratchet, however, had placed a hand on her shoulder in order to calm her down.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Bluestreak," the medic had said, although a small smile had been on his features. "It won't be ready today, so you're going to have to endure being a femme a little while longer. Do you understand?"

Bluestreak understood perfectly and, frankly, she didn't mind at all. After all, if she had managed so far, she could manage one more day.

Even so, Bluestreak had been restless. So restless that Ratchet had to tell her to get out of the medbay so that he and Perceptor could work in peace, in fact. And, unfortunately, Prowl couldn't stay with her either, since he had to hear Jazz's report concerning Titan. That was why she was now wandering around the Ark, having absolutely nothing to do to pass the time.

She could go out and have a stroll, admittedly, but she wasn't sure if it was such a good idea to drive in her overexcited state. She didn't want to cause any accidents if she could help it. Walking was out of the question, too; it was simply too boring. It _was _a lovely day outside…

_Well, wandering around the Ark never hurt anyone,_ she finally decided, and she transformed to her vehicle mode.

* * *

The sun set, and the first stars appeared in the sky as two Lamborghinis were on their way to the Ark after a long patrol. The red one was talking exuberantly and driving without much care in the world. The other one, however, hardly said a word and barely kept up with his brother – he wasn't in the mood for speed today.

"I really don't know what Optimus has against stink bombs! Okay, fine, I used one inside the control room but one, it was an accident, two, we now know it works, and three, it was _ages_ ago!" Sideswipe said. "It's not that we can't use them against the Decepticons. You know what I mean?"

Sunstreaker hummed his affirmation.

"Can you imagine it?" Sideswipe continued. "Starscream would start screeching, 'Get this stench off me!' and Megatron would go: 'This is _your _fault, Starscream!' Soundwave would probably be stuck bathing Ravage for weeks!"

"Sounds nice," Sunstreaker said absentmindedly.

Sideswipe directed his sensors to Sunstreaker. "Right. And then a ship filled with female Klingons would come to Earth to find the creatures with that enticing aroma they picked up in their detectors in order to ravish them. Of course, there's the whole size difference to be considered, but love conquers all, they say."

"Yeah, they do," Sunstreaker replied.

"Yeah. Primus, Sunstreaker, someone scratched your paint with their keys!"

Sunstreaker halted at once, his sensors frantically trying to locate the scratches. "Where?!"

"Finally," Sideswipe said with a long suffering sigh, braking as well. "What's with you? You barely heard a word I said!"

Sunstreaker huffed indignantly. "Well, excuse me for not giving you my undivided attention. I have other stuff to think about."

"Should I ask what kind of stuff that is or is it that obvious?" the red Lamborghini asked, his knowing smile audible in his current mode.

If Sunstreaker ever meant to answer that question, he never had the chance. The sound of an incoming transmission filled the air, almost startling the Twins.

"Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, is there a reason that you stopped less than half a mile outside the Ark?" Red Alert asked from the other side of the communication link.

Sideswipe was the first to answer. "I dropped a quarter. Can you find it for me?"

"A simple 'No' would have sufficed," Red Alert said. "And I'd appreciate it if you stopped fooling around; you were expected back in the Ark five Earth minutes ago."

"Yes, Master," Sideswipe replied, sounding like the Igor character he had seen on TV.

Red Alert was hardly impressed. "While you are it, bring Bluestreak with you. The detectors say that she's quite near you."

"So tell her to return, like you told us," Sunstreaker said.

"I tried; she's not answering. I should also add that Prowl is getting worried," the security chief said. "And so am I."

"So why don't either of you…?" Sunstreaker started.

"Because I assured Prowl that you two would bring her on your way here," Red Alert interrupted impatiently. "Now get to it!"

"Actually…" Sideswipe said in that moment, a strange tone in his voice, "I'm sure Sunstreaker will be more than happy to fetch her on his own."

"What?!" Sunstreaker exclaimed, dumbfounded.

"Sorry, Bro, I have a thing that can't wait," Sideswipe declared innocently, and he drove off on top speed.

"Sideswipe, don't you dare…!"

"You can thank me later!" the red Lamborghini called back, and he drove out of sight.

"Yeah," Sunstreaker muttered, "_After_ I kill you first."

Truth be told, however, he wanted to check on Bluestreak. It wasn't like the gunner to ignore calls in the radio-transmitter, and the yellow Lamborghini hoped she hadn't gotten herself kidnapped again. Transforming and holding his gun in one hand – one couldn't be too careful – he headed to the direction Red Alert had indicated. It was getting quite dark now, and there were rocks just about everywhere in the particular terrain, so he walked quite slowly. He _had _to save his paint from grief.

"Hey, Bluestreak! You here?" he called.

Bluestreak didn't answer, but it was hardly necessary anyway. Sunstreaker caught sight of her, resting her back against a small rocky formation and curled to herself in obvious slumber. Groaning under his breath, he stretched his hand to shake her awake.

He did nothing of the sort, just like he didn't all those nights before, when he had found her sleeping on the couch in the common room. He remained still instead, taking in her serene features, and he considered for a moment the possibility of picking her up in his arms again and carrying her back to her dorm. He finally decided against it, though. He had gotten away with it once; doing it twice would be playing with fire.

"Bluestreak? Wake up."

She sighed. "Five more minutes," she mumbled.

Sunstreaker shook his head. "No can do, Bluestreak. We have to go back to the Ark."

Bluestreak's optics shuttered open, shining momentarily as they came online. "Sunstreaker…?"

Sunstreaker smirked. "That would be me."

As the words finally clicked, her optics widened tenfold and she stared at the yellow Lamborghini. "Sunstreaker?!" She sat up at once, her head almost impacting with the rocky surface behind her. "What are you doing here?"

"I was on my way to the Ark after four hours of patrolling," Sunstreaker replied. "What's your excuse?"

"I was just having a stroll," she said in a defensive tone.

"It didn't look that way from where I was standing," the yellow Lamborghini commented with a smirk.

Bluestreak huffed indignantly. "Fine, you made your point. I didn't recharge all that well last night."

Sunstreaker understood. "Too wired, huh?"

She nodded.

"So when is the big day?" Sunstreaker asked. He hadn't even realised that he was now sitting next to Bluestreak in a relaxed manner.

"Tomorrow," she replied.

"Heh… you've got every reason to be excited then," he said.

"Yeah. Although…" She stopped midway and shook her head. "Never mind."

Now that had Sunstreaker quite puzzled. "What?"

"Nothing. It's stupid," she insisted.

"So? Has that stopped you before?" he said, only to realise at the next moment just how bad that had sounded. "I didn't mean it that way."

"You'd better," she warned him.

"It's just that…" Sunstreaker hesitated. He really wanted to somehow salvage the situation, but he didn't want to sound too pathetic either. "You're one of the few that I've considered a friend, Bluestreak. A _real _friend. And, well, I kinda feel like I made a mess out of things after your… uh… change. I want you to feel like you can trust me again, because, frankly, I miss your company."

"Really?" Bluestreak sounded quite surprised.

"Really."

She smiled. "Good, because I missed yours."

It was the best thing Sunstreaker had heard in a whole month and it put a smile on his face. "How about we make up for lost time then? Will you tell me what's bothering you?"

Bluestreak bowed her head. "Well, I… I'm scared. Okay?"

"Of what?" Sunstreaker asked.

"That something might go wrong," she said. "I can't help it; I was looking forward to this for so long that now I just…" She sighed.

Sunstreaker understood. "You think it's too good to be true."

She nodded. "Silly, right?"

"Yeah, a bit."

"Thank you, I feel so much better now," Bluestreak muttered.

"You should," Sunstreaker said. "Both Ratchet and Perceptor will be working on this. Do you think they'll let something go horribly wrong just like that?"

"No," she admitted.

"And even if it does, do you doubt they'll fix it?"

"I guess not."

"There you go," Sunstreaker said, and he placed a reassuring hand on Bluestreak's shoulder. "It will be fine."

Surprisingly, she let out a small snort of laughter.

"What?"

"You realise that that's _my_ line, right?" Bluestreak said, looking at him with a teasing look in her optics.

Sunstreaker smiled, because it was true. Every time either he or Sideswipe got hurt, Bluestreak was always there with a word of comfort and a gesture of encouragement.

"Just returning the favour," he said warmly. "And it doesn't make my words any less true."

"No. No, it doesn't," she replied and she nudged him playfully. "Thanks."

Sunstreaker's smile widened. "Ready for tomorrow then?"

"Definitely," she declared. "And I can't say I'll miss being a femme."

"Maybe not you, but I can think of a few who will," Sunstreaker noted. _Fireflight comes to mind…_ he thought darkly.

"What about you?"

Blast it, he had walked right into that one, hadn't he? His wince must have been quite evident, too, for Bluestreak's optics widened.

"Oh, Primus, you will, too."

Sunstreaker knew now that there was no point in denying the truth. He nodded.

Bluestreak lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," the yellow Lamborghini said in a soft tone. He looked at Bluestreak from the corner of his optics, deciding to change his tactics before saying something that he wouldn't be able to take back. He grinned. "Seeing you in that outfit was treat enough."

"Hey!" she cried, pretending to be affronted as she slapped Sunstreaker on the shoulder. "Mark my words; if _you _ever become a femme, I'm dressing you as a human maid. Lacy apron and everything!"

"Good choice. Black _is _my colour."

It was a cheeky answer that meant to make Bluestreak laugh. Instead, Sunstreaker was stunned to see the femme's eyes widening, a blush colouring her cheeks.

"That's an interesting image…" she mumbled.

"Bluestreak?" Sunstreaker reached for her, touching her face in mild concern. "You okay?"

She practically flinched under his touch. "I'm fine." She shook her head and practically sprang back on her feet. "We should go."

"Yeah…" Sunstreaker said slowly, watching her moving in a stiff manner. Yes, it was amazing how Bluestreak had this uncanny ability to switch from relaxed to nervous in a matter of seconds, but that wasn't what puzzled the frontliner at the moment. The real question was… Whywas she nervous all of a sudden_?_

"Coming?" Bluestreak called, snapping Sunstreaker out of his reverie. She had already started her engine, and she looked more than just eager to leave.

Sunstreaker nodded. As soon as he transformed, Bluestreak gunned her engines on full throttle and both Autobots headed to the Ark. He followed close behind in welcome silence, for one thought after another filled his mind and each answer seemed to take him one step further to an important realisation.

They reached the entrance of the base (too soon, Sunstreaker deemed), and they both changed back into their robot modes. Bluestreak, however, barely looked at the yellow mech as she marched onwards, with just a brief "Goodnight" flowing out of her lip components.

Yet Sunstreaker saw the apprehension in her optics, and again the same relentless question plagued him. He opened his mouth, wanting to know, to understand; because he didn't dare hope.

"Bluestreak."

"Yeah?"

She turned around at once, almost instinctively. Heavy silence surrounded them as Sunstreaker found himself trying to find the right words and hating himself for not just saying what was in his mind. It was a just question, and he didn't want to admit that he was just too scared to ask it.

But, blast it… he was.

"See you around," he whispered.

Her door panels lowered, her tension finally ebbing. "See you, Sunstreaker."

And with that she was gone, down the corridor and out of sight.

_You idiot…_ That was what Sideswipe would say for certain as soon as he found out about this. A part of Sunstreaker also agreed, but the yellow Lamborghini knew deep down that there is always a right time for everything and that wasn't it. Not by far. Tomorrow, Bluestreak would become a mech once more, and things would get back to the way they were. The way they _should _be. Just as Sunstreaker preferred.

After all, his creator always said that he never did things the easy way.

**To Be Concluded…**


	12. Back To Normal?

_A/n__: Since Bluestreak will change back to his mech self, this chapter will contain some mild slash. Read further at your discretion._

* * *

The operation went a lot more smoothly than Bluestreak had expected. Early the next day, she had gone to the medbay, where Ratchet and Perceptor had been already waiting for her. They had been quite tired, Bluestreak could tell. Even so, they had both been smiling and ready to start work. And so, a couple of hours later, Bluestreak had come online with a new face and a broad smile on _his _features.

The rest of the Autobots had been glad to see the gunner back to his former self. True, there had been those few who had seemed a bit disappointed at first, but they had soon joined in the general mood of joy and relief as well. More importantly, Bluestreak was able to converse and joke with his friends without the awkward tension of self-consciousness that had plagued him for so long. It was no wonder that, a few days later, Bluestreak had put his femme days well behind him and he recalled them as if they were part of a surreal dream.

Almost, that is. Though Bluestreak's friendship with the Twins had also been restored, the gunner had felt that there was also something different about the two frontliners. Sunstreaker had been quiet – well, quieter than usual – and with a strange look in his optics. If Bluestreak hadn't known any better, he'd say that the yellow Lamborghini had been contemplating on something. Every time he had asked Sideswipe about that, however, the red warrior had just grinned and dodged the question by blatantly changing the subject. In the end, Bluestreak had decided to just give up.

That brought Bluestreak to the now, almost ten days after he had returned to his mech self. He didn't have any work, since it was his monthly day off. So, he was sitting idly on the couch in the common room, changing the channels at random in a lazy manner.

"Bored, huh?"

Bluestreak turned around, startled at hearing the familiar voice practically out of nowhere.

"Uh… hey, Sunstreaker," he faltered, waving a bit at the yellow Lamborghini. "I figured there would be a movie on or something right about this time, but I guess I was wrong." Just then, he recalled something important and he regarded the frontliner curiously. "How come you're here? I thought it was Sideswipe's day off today."

"It was," Sunstreaker replied with a nod. "But my joints must have gathered some gravel from yesterday's patrol, 'cause it hurt when I tried to transform this morning. So, Bro offered to cover my shift for today."

"Oh," Bluestreak said in sympathy. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Nothing that a little oil couldn't fix," the frontliner said, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. "Of course, now I'm stuck in the base with nothing to occupy myself with."

"Sounds like we're on the same boat then," Bluestreak noted.

"Guess so."

Silence followed and Bluestreak caught himself thinking hard to say something, anything. Finally, he got it.

"You know… If you like, I mean… We could… play some Mortal Kombat?" he asked.

Sunstreaker's lip components tugged to a small smile. "Sure. Let me bring the controls and you set up the game, okay?"

Bluestreak grinned, though he purposefully ignored the giddy feeling in his spark. "Got it!" he said. "You're so gonna get fried!"

"Is that a challenge?" Sunstreaker said, raising an optic ridge in an amused manner.

"Just stating a fact," Bluestreak replied cheekily.

"Really?" Sunstreaker placed both hands on his hips and stared at the gunner. "Tell you what. We play three rounds; winner takes it all. Deal?"

"Deal!" Bluestreak said. "Um… All of what?" he added, confused.

Sunstreaker shrugged, although Bluestreak thought that he detected something flashing in the yellow Lamborghini's optics. "We'll think of something."

With that, Sunstreaker walked out to retrieve the playstation controls.

* * *

Bluestreak had to admit that Sunstreaker put up a good fight. They had been playing for over an hour and, so far, the score was a tie. This final round would determine the winner and Bluestreak didn't intend to lose… even if the odds were currently against him.

"I'm creaming you," Sunstreaker said, pressing the controls rapidly.

"Nothing's over till the fat lady sings," Bluestreak said, clenching his jaw. "Or till Princess Kitana rips Subzero's heart out!" Sure enough, Bluestreak snatched his chance and managed to kill off Subzero with a swift blow. "Oh yeah! I win!"

"You sure do," Sunstreaker conceded.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Bluestreak registered that the frontliner didn't sound upset in the least. Under other circumstances, he would have thought that was strange, but he was too excited to think about it presently.

"That felt good!" he said, all but punching the air. "It's a shame we didn't play while I was a femme. It would feel ten times better if I had the chance to say that you lost to a…"

He wanted to say 'girl', but Bluestreak never managed it. A pair of hands cupped his face confidently, while soft lips locked on his in a definite kiss. His _first _kiss. Bluestreak's breath was stolen in a heartbeat and his spark practically did a backflip as all coherent thought abandoned him. All he could feel was that smooth mouth and those gentle hands and, Primus, it was everything he had imagined and more. He closed his optics, taking in the sensation of Sunstreaker kissing him and sighing contentedly.

Wait a minute.

Sunstreaker… was kissing him?!

As reality hit home, he drew back and stared at Sunstreaker incredulously.

"What…? What was that…?"

Sunstreaker just smiled warmly, as if nothing was wrong with what was happening. "I already told you. Winner takes it all."

Only then did everything fall into place, and Bluestreak gasped.

"You… You set me up! You planned this!"

Sunstreaker seemed quite unabashed as he nodded.

"But… I thought that you liked me as a femme!" he exclaimed, still trying to register what was currently happening.

"I did," the frontliner said.

"Now you've lost me again," Bluestreak groaned, burying his face in his hands. "You really like messing with my head, don't you?"

"Just listen to what I have to say," Sunstreaker declared, prodding Bluestreak to look back at him with a kind of tenderness that Bluestreak didn't think the yellow Lamborghini was capable of. "I admit it; I could have you as a femme if I wanted to. Pit, there were times that I wanted it so bad I could almost taste it." His fingers stroked Bluestreak's face. "But I meant what I said. You're one of my few real friends, and I didn't want to lose that."

_So close…_ Bluestreak felt his breathing quickening again, and unnatural heat washed through him. "And now?" he whispered.

"Now?" Sunstreaker chuckled, and he pulled Bluestreak forward. "Now everything's just perfect," he said huskily, moments before their lips sealed together in another kiss.

Well, if Sunstreaker put it that way, Bluestreak wasn't going to argue.

* * *

"Jazz?"

Jazz turned down the music he was playing and looked back at Prowl. They had been walking together towards the tactician's office but, apparently, something had caught the Datsun's attention. He was standing in the middle of the corridor, his optics slightly wide as he looked to his left, into the common room. Of course, Jazz knew from previous experience that this was never a good sign, so he retraced his steps and walked up at Prowl's side.

"What is it?" he asked.

Prowl lifted his hand and pointed at the interior of the common room. "Is that Sunstreaker?"

Jazz frowned; nevertheless he decided to indulge his friend. And, sure enough, Sunstreaker was in the room and… Oh.

"Uh… yeah," the saboteur answered, wincing.

"And is he kissing Bluestreak?"

"Pretty much," Jazz replied, waiting for the familiar _bzzt_ sound that signalled Prowl's imminent computer crash.

Surprisingly, the tactician merely seemed the epitome of calmness as he said two words only.

"I see."

And then Jazz heard the familiar cocking sound of Prowl's acid-pellet rifle.

**THE END**

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* * *

__A/n:__ Special thanks go to all the people who have read and reviewed the story. Your positive thoughts and opinions were more than just welcome. :)_


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